LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Chap. Copyright No.. 

ShelL.^^.SJ 



4 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE TEACHER'S HANDBOOK 
OF PSYCHOLOGY 



ON THE BASTS OF 

OUTLINES OF PSYCHOLOGY 



/ BY 

JAMES SULLY, M. A., LL D. 

GROTE PROFESSOR OF MIND AND LOGIC IN UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON 

LECTURER ON THE THEORY OF EDUCATION IN THE 

COLLEGE of' PRECEPTORS, LONDON 

AUTHOR OF OUTLINES OF PSYCHOLOGY, STUDIES OF CHILDHOOD, 

children's WAYS, ETC. 



FOURTH EDITION, REWRITTEN AND ENLARGED 



NEW YORK 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 




TWO COf ita KrcElVED 



^ lOS" 



Copyright. 1886, 1897, 
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 



PREFACE TO FOURTH EDITION. 

The present edition has been carefully revised tlirongh- 
out, largely re-written and enlarged. While seeking to 
preserve the original character of the book as an intro- 
duction, I have felt it necessary — in view of the fact 
that our best Training Colleges for Secondary Teachers 
are now making a serious study of psychology — to am- 
plify somewhat and bring up to date the exposition of 
scientific principles. I have also touched on those recent 
developments of experimental psychology which have 
concerned themselves with the measurement of the sim- 
pler mental processes, and which promise to have impor- 
tant educational results by supplying accurate tests of 
children's abilities. The new branch of the science 
known as child-psychology has been more fully drawn 
upon, from the conviction that it is only when teachers 
have made a careful study of the spontaneous move- 
ments of children's minds during the first years that 
they are likely to find their way readily to the minds 
of older children, which preserve many more survivals 
of the earlier mental characteristics than most of us are 
wont to suppose. The practical applications have pur- 
posely been left in the form of general prescri/ptions, 



y[ PREFACE TO FOURTH EDITION. 

whicli have to be filled in by the lecturer at the Train- 
ing College with the concrete facts of the student's 
own experience. Beginners may, on a first perusal, 
omit the paragraphs in small type, as also some other 
portions which a competent teacher can easily point 
out. 

I acknowledge with pleasure my indebtedness to the 
valuable suggestions kindly sent me by friends, more 
particularly Professor Lloyd Morgan (who was good 
enough to read through the old edition for the pur- 
pose). Miss Alice Woods, of the Maria Grey Training 
College, and Miss M. H. Wood. 

Hampstead, July, 1897. 



CONTENTS. 

PAKT I. 

MIND AND ITS DEVELOPMENT. 

Chapter I. 
PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. , 

PAGK 

Art and Science 1 

Art and Science of Education 5 

Divisions of Science of Education . . . . . . . 7 

Relation of Psychology to Education 8 

Chapter II. 

SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Definition of Psychology 15 

Mental and Bodily Processes *' . . .16 

How We Observe and Study Mental Processes . , . .17 

Observation of Children's Minds ". . .... 20 

Experiment in Psychology . 23 

General Knowledge of Mind 24 

Chapter III. 

CONNECTION OF MIND WITH BODY. 

The Bodily and the Mental Life .27 

The Nervous System . .• 27 

The Special Organs of Mind 31 

How the Brain Does its Work . . . . . . .33 

The Growth and Development of the Brain 34 

Mental Activity and Brain Efficiency ...... 35 

The Brain as Part of the Bodily Organism 36 

Brain- Work and Fatigue 37 

Bearmgs on Education. 

Normal Exercise of Brain 38 

Overtaxing the Brain 39 

Remission and Variation of Brain-Exercise 41 

Differences of Brain-Power 42 



vm CONTENTS. 

Chapter IV. 
FUNCTIONS OF MIND : KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 

PAGE 

Analysis of Mind 44 

Triple Function of Mind 45 

Functions and Faculties 46 

Relation of Feeling, Knowing, and Willing 49 

Laws of Functional Activity 52 

Bearings on Education. 

How the Teacher makes Use of Results of Analysis of Mind . 54 

Use of the Synthetic Conception of Mind 56 

Value of a Knowledge of Conditions of Mental Activity , . 57 

Chapter V. 

MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

General Acceunt of Mental Development ..... 59 

The Biological Theory of Mental Development- .... 62 

Development as Predetermined by Racial Heredity . . 63 

Psychological Theory 66 

Order of Development of Faculties ....... 67 

Explanation of Scheme of Development 70 

Intellectual Development due to Progressive Exercise of Func titons 71 

Mental Development and Retentiveness 72 

Retentiveness as Habit 72 

Retentiveness Proper . 73 

Development of Feeling and Willing 75 

Interdependence of Intellectual, Affective, and Conative Develop- 
ment 75 

Factors in Development 77 

(a) Internal Factor 77 

(6) External Factor —(1) Natural Environment ... 79 

(2) The Social Environment . . 80 

Undesigned and Designed Influence of Society . ~ . . .81 

Varieties of Development 85 

Differences of Congenital Tendency 86 

Heredity and Individuality 87 

Varieties of External Influence 89 

Measurement of Intellectual Development 93 

Bearing of Theory of Development on Education. 

Relation of Development to Education 94 

Following Nature 95 

Methodical Training of the Faculties 97 

Training to Follow the Natural Order of Development 

of the Faculties 98 

No Isolated Training of a Faculty 100 

Supplement to Chafieii V. 

Periods of Development 102 



CONTENTS. IX 

PAKT II. 

DEVELOPMENT OF INTELLECT. 

Chapter VI. 

^ PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS : SENSATIONS, ETC. 

PAGE 

(A) The Senses and Sensations — 

Sense-Materials or Sensations 107 

General and Special Sensibility 109 

Presentative Characters of Sensations Ill 

The Five Senses — 

Taste and Smell 112 

Touch 113 

Passive and Active Touch 116 

Muscular Sense 117 

Hearing 120 

Sight 123 

(B) Affective Elements 126 

(C) Conative Elem-ents : Primitive Movements . . . 126 

Development of the Senses 129 

Differences of Sense-Capacity and Motror Ability .... 130 

The Early Care of the Senses 132 

Chapter VII. 

MENTAL ELABORATION: ATTENTION. 

Psychical Materials and their Elaboration 135 

Attention as a Factor in Elaboration .• 135 

Grades of Consciousness : the Sub-Conscious . . . 136 

General Function of Attention 137 

Definition of Attention 139 

Nervous Process in Attention 141 

Extent or Area of Attention . 142 

On what the Degree of Attention Depends 144 

Non- Voluntary and Voluntary Attention 145 

Non-Voluntary or Reflex Attention — 

Law of Contrast and Novelty 146 

Interest 147 

Familiarity and Interest 149 

Transition to Voluntary Attention 150 

Expectant Attention 151 

Function of the Will in Attention 152 

Early Development of Attention. 

Infantile Reactions 154 

First Manifestations of Voluntary Attention .... 155 

Attention to the Unimpressive 157 

Conoentration of Mind 167 



X CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Habits of Attention 159 

Variations in Children's Pov/er of Attention 160 

Measurement of Attention 161 

Educational Control of Attention. 

The Process of Training a Child's Attention 161 

Chapter VIII. 

PERCEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

First Stage of Elaboration of Sense-Data : Perception . . . 168 

How Percepts are Reached 169 

(a) The Mastery of Sense-Data 170 

\h) Interpretation of Sense-Data 172 

Special Channels of Perception 174 

Perceptions of Touch 175 

Visual Perception , . . . . 178 

Perception of Form by the Eye , . . » . . 178 

Perception of Distance and Solidity ..... 180 

Intuition of Things . . 183 

Perception of Our Own Body 184 

Perception and Recognition 186 

Early Development of Perceptions. 

Characteristics of Children's Perceptions 187 

Measurement of Perception 191 

Educational Control of Perception. 

What Trailing of the Senses Means ...... 192 

(a) Training in the Discrimination of Sense-Material . 193 

(6) Training in the Observation of Things .... 197 

Exercises in Methodical Observation of Form . . . 197 

The Principle of the Object-Lesson 202 

Chapter IX. 
REPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Process of Reproduction 207 

Representative Images 208 

Conditions of Reproduction — 

(a) Depth of Impression : Attention and Retention . . 212 

Repetition and Retention 214 

(&) Suggestion of Images, and its Conditions . . . 217 

Laws of SiLggestion. 

(I.) Suggestion as the Result of Association : Law of Contiguity . 218 

Strength of Associative Cohesion 221 

On what the Strength of Associative Suggestion Depends . 222 

Trains of Images : Verbal Series 223 



CONTENTS. XI 

PAGE 

(II.) The Mutual Suggestion of Similars 226 

(III.) Suggestion of Contrast 228 

Simple and Complex Suggestion , . 230 

Divergent Suggestion 230 

Convergent Suggestion 231 

Summary of Laws of Suggestion 234 

Active Reproduction : Recollection 236 

Chapter X. 
REPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION— (Continued) : MEMORY. 

Memory and Memories 239 

Early Developments of Memory. 

Early Grov^th of Memory 241 

Effects of Repetition and of Novelty of Experience . . . 242 

Causes of Growth of Memory 245 

Varieties of Memory, General and Special 246 

Causes of Difference . 248 

Measurement of Memory 249 

Educational Cotitrol of the Memory. 

Training of the Memory 250 

(a) Exercise in Acquisition 258 

Learning by Heart . 257 

Art of Mnemonics 259 

(6) Exercise in Recalling 262 

Subjects which Exercise the Memory .... 262 

The Place of Memory in Intellectual Training . . 263 

Chapter XI. 

PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Reproductive and Productive Imagination 266 

The Constructive Process 267 

Various Directions of Constructive Activity 269 

(A) (1) Imaginative Apprehension of the External World . . 271 

, (a) Imagination and the Acquisition of Knowledge . . 271 

(b) Imagination and Discovery 275 

(A) (2) Imaginative Apprehension of Inner World . . . 275 

(A) (3) Practical Contrivance 277 

08) Esthetic Imagination . 279 

\AJse and Abuse of the Imagination 280 

/^Intellectual Function of Imagination 282 

Early Developmeiits of Imagination, 

Beginnings of Imaginative Activity 283 

Children's Fancy 284 

Imagination Brought under Control 286 



Xll CO. STENTS. 

PAGH 

Later Growth of Imagination 287 

Varieties of Imaginative Power 288 

Measurement of Imaginative Power . . . . , . 289 

Educational Control of Imagination. 

Training of the Imagination 290 

Twofold Direction of Imaginative Training 291 

(a) Restraining Fancy 291 

(6) Cultivating the Imagination 292 

Exercise of the Imagination in Teaching .... 294 

Cultivation of Invention 300 

Cultivation of Other Directions of Imaginative Activity . 302 

Chapter XII. 
THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (A) CONCEPTION. 

Nature of Thought 

Knowledge of the Particular and of the General .... 305 

Elements of Thought- Activity : (a) Analysis : Abstraction . . 306 

{h) Synthesis : Comparison. . 308 

Relation of Comparison to Abstraction 309 

Stages of Thinking 310 

The General Idea and Concept. 

Definition of General Idea 311 

The General Idea and the Image : Generic Images . . . 312 

Conception Proper or Generalisation ...... 314 

The E'unction and Value of Names in Conception .... 315 

Formation of More Abstract Notions 317 

Variety of Concepts 319 

The Concept as a Synthesis of Attributes : Mathematical 

Ideas .......... 320 

Moral Ideas : Idea of Self 323 

Ideas of Others 326 

Relation of Conception to Imagination 328 

Chapter XIII. 

THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (A) CONCEPTION— (Continued). 

Early Developments of Conceptimi. 

Beginnings of Abstraction and Comparison 330 

First Rudiments of the General Idea 331 

Differentiation of Language-Signs 334 

Varieties of Conceptual Development 336 

Measurement of Conception 337 

Regulation of Conception. 

Logical Definition of Concept » . 338 

Imperfection of Concepts : {a) Want of Distinctness . . . 339 

(6) Want of Accuracy .... 342 



CONTENTS. • Xm 

PAGE 

Conception and Discrimination . . . . ^ . . 345 

Systems of Concepts : Claiisification 346 

The Definition of Concepts 348 

Educational Control of Conce-piion. 

Relation of the Educator to Abstraction 350 

Simple Exercises in Generalisation 352 

Definition and Explanation of Names 355 

Explaining the Meaning of Words 358 

Order of Taldng up Abstract Studies 360 

Chapter XIV. 

THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (B) JUDGING AND REASONING. 

The Process of Judging. 

Meaning of Judgment 363 

Relation of Conception to Judging ..... 366 

Principal Conditions of Judging 367 

Early Development of Judgment 368 

Differences among Individuals in the Ability to Judge . . . 370 

Logical Regulation of Judgments. 

Perfections of Judgment : Clearness 371 

Accuracy of Judgment ........ 373 

Other Qualities of Judgment 374 

Inference or Reasoning. 

Process of Inference . . . . . . . , . 375 

Relation of Judging to Reasoning 377 

Inductive and Deductive Reasoning ...... 378 

{a) Nature of Inductive Reasoning . .• 378 

(6) Deductive Reasoning 380 

Application of Principles and Explanation .... 382 

Chapter XV. 

THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (B) JUDGING AND REASONING— 

(Continued). 

Growth of Reasoning Power 384 

First Inductive Reasonings 385 

Children's Idea of Cause 385 

Early Reasonings about Causes 386 

Early Progress of Deductive Reasoning .... 388 

Individual Differences of Reasoning Power 389 

Measurement of Reasoning Power 390 

Logical Regulation of the Reasoning Processes. 

Control of Inductive Reasoning 391 

Control of Deduction 391 

Logical Unification of Knowledge : Science 392 

Reaction of Systems of Knowledge on Apprehension . . . 393 



XIV - CONTENTS. 



Educational Control of Thought. 
Training Children in Methodical Thinking — 

{a) Exercises in Judgiai^ about Things . . , , 395 

(6) Exercises in Reasoning 398 

►Science and Training of the Reasoni^ng Powei"s .... 400 

Order of Instruction 402 



PAKT III. 
THE DEVELOPMENT OF FEELING. 

Chapter XVI. 

GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

Feeling Defined 407 

Some Effects of Feeling 409 

General Conditions of Pleasure and Pain 410 

Monotony and Change 412 

Accommodation to Surroundings . . . . . . 413 

Varieties of Affective State : Classification of Feeiings. 

(A) Sense-Feelings 415 

(B) The Emotions 416 

Development of Emotion 418 

(1) Congenital Element 418 

(2) The Effect of Exercise and Experience , . 419 
Revival and Association of Feeling .... 420 

Order of Development of the Emotions .... 423 

Early Develojmient of Feeling. 

Characteristics of Children's Feelings 425 

Individuality and Feeling , 428 

Educational Control of Feeling. 

Relation of Education to the Feelings 429 

Action of the Educator on the Feelings 430 

Need of Studying the Conditions of Feeling 431 

(a) The Restrictive Action of Education on the Emotions . . 433 

[h) Stimulative Action of Education on the Emotions . . . 436 

Chapter XVII. 

EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

(A) Egoistic Emotions. 

Fear , 440 

Anger, Antipathy 444. 



CONTENTS. XV 

PAGR 

Love of Activity and Growing Consciousness of Po\Yer . . . 450 

Feeling of Rivalry 453 

Love of Approbation and Self-Esteem 457 

(B) Social Emotions. 

Attachment to Others : Love 461 

Sympathy 462 

Stages in the Development of Sympathy .... 464 

The Education of Sympathy 465 

Chapter XVIII. 

ABSTRACT SENTIMENTS. 

(A) The Intellectual Sentimeyit 

Feeling of Wonder 471 

Pleasure of Gaining Knowledge 472 

Growth of Intellectual Feelings : Children's Curiosity . . . 474 

The Cultivation of the Intellectual Feelings 476 

(B) The Esthetic Sentiment. 

Characteristics of Esthetic Pleasure 478 

Esthetic Judgment : Taste 480 

Standard of Taste 481 

Growth of Esthetic Faculty 482 

The Education of Taste 485 

(C) The Moral Sentiment. 

Moral Feeling and Moral Judgment 494 

The Moral Standard 495 

Growth of the Moral Sentiment . . ' 495 

The Training of the Moral Faculty , 501 



PAKT IV. 

DEVELOPMENT OF THE WILL AND CHAEACTER 

Chapter XIX. 

THE CONATIVE FUNCTION: DEVELOPMENT OF 
VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 



Definition of Conation 

Or gin of Voluntary Movement : (a) Congenital Factor 

(b) Effects of Experience 

The Factors in Voluntary Action : {a) Desire 

(6) Idea of Suitable Action : Motor Representation 

(c) Attention and Voluntary Movement 



508 
509 
510 
511 
513 
513 



XVI CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Improvement of Movement by Exercise 515 

Imitation, etc. 517 

Further Developments of Voluntary Movement .... 521 

Movement and Habit 524 

Strength of Habit 526 

Formation of Habits 527 

Habit and Adaptive Growth 528 

Early Training of the Will through Exercise of Motor Organs . 529 

Chapter XX. 
DELIBERATE ACTION : MORAL CHARACTER. 

(A) Effect on Volition of Development of Feeling and Desire . 537 

(B) Effect of Development of Intellectual Pov^er .... 538 

(C) Effect of Volitional Exercise 540 

Conflict and Choice 541 

Resolution and Perseverance 544 

Self-Control 545 

(a) Control of Conative Forces 546 

\h) Control of the Feelings 546 

(c) Control of the Thoughts 548 

Connections between Different Forms of Self-Control . 549 

Habit and Control 551 

Moral Habits 552 

Character 552 

Early Manifestations of the Higher Volition 555 

Echication of Will and Cha^-acter. 

The Ends of Early Government 557 

Conditions of a Good Government 558 

Instruments of Early Government : Punishment and Reward . 562 

Expression of Approval and Disapproval : Praise and Blame . 567 

Educational Development of a Self-Reliant and Good Will . . 568 

Scope of Moral Influence in the Home and the School . . . 572 

Supplement to Chapter XX. 

(A) Distinctness and Unity of Educational Processes . . . 574 

(B) Typical Development and its Varieties : Individuality . . 575 

Nature of Individuality 576 

Value of Individuality . . » 578 

Education and Individuality 678 

Index , 583 



PAET I. 

MIND AND ITS DEVELOPMENT. 

CHAPTEE I. 

PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

Art and Science. The doing of a thing presupposes 
some knowledge : for every action is the employment of 
certain agencies which stand in the relation of means 
to our particular end or object of desire ; and we could 
not select and make use of these means unless we knew 
beforehand that they were fitted to bring about the 
fulfilment of our desire. This is evident even in the 
case of simple actions. Thus if after sitting and reading 
I feel cold and set about warming mj^self by parlour 
gymnastics or by a brisk walk, I am clearly using the 
knowledge that such bodily exercise is fitted to restore 
warmth. And it is still more manifest in the case of 
complex actions. The doings of an engineer, of a sur- 
geon, or of a statesman, involve a considerable quantity 
of knoAvledge of various kinds. All knowledge which 
is thus serviceable for doing things is known as Prac- 
tical Knowledge. 

This Practical Knowledge, again, may be divided into 
two sorts. Thus the knowledge impHed in the above 
2 1 



2 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

example, that mnscnlar exercise promotes bodily warmth, 
may be knowledge tliat I have gathered from my own 
experience aided by what others have told me ; or it may 
have been obtained from a study of the bodily organism 
and its functions, and of the effects of muscular activity 
on the circulation, etc. The first kind of knowledge, 
being directly derived from my own or somebody else's 
experience or observation, is called experiential or 
empirical ; ' the second kind, being the outcome of that 
revision and extension of everyday experience which 
make up the work of science, is named scientific. 

The chief dilferences between empirical and scientific 
knowledge are the following : (1) The former is based on 
a narrow range of observation, and on observation which 
is apt to be loose and inexact ; tlie latter, on a wide 
survey of facts and on accurate processes of observation 
and experiment. (2) The former consists of propositions 
which have only a limited scope and are never, strictly 
speaking, universally true ; the latter is made up of 
propositions of wide comprehensiveness, and of universal 
validity, known as principles or laws. (3) As a result of 
this the conclusions deduced from empirical knowledge 
are precarious, whereas the conclusions properly drawn 
from scientific principles are perfectly trustworthy. 

We call any department of practice an Art when the 
processes involved are of sufficient complexity and 
difiiculty to demand special knowledge and a preparatory 

^ The student should note that the expression "• practical know- 
ledge " as used in everyday life refers especially to this direct ex- 
periential acquaintance with a thing. But it is better to enlarge the 
expression as I have done in the text, making it signify all knowledge 
ivhich aids us i?i practice. 



RELATION OF SCIENCE TO ART. 3 

study, and to offer scope for skill and excellence. Thus 
we talk now of an art of cooking, because with our ad- 
vanced civilisation the preparation of food has become so 
elaborate a process as to call for special training and skill. 

The arts of life must always have required a certain 
amount and variety of knowledge. In tlie early stages 
of development, however, they were carried on by help of 
the more defective empirical kind. Thus in agriculture 
men sowed certain crops rather than others in given soils, 
because they and those who preceded them had found 
from experience that these generally did better in these 
soils. Similarly in medicine men resorted at first to a par- 
ticular remedy in a particular disease, because their prac- 
tical experience had taught them the utility of so doing. 

Such guidance from empirical sources was in time 
found to be insufficient. Workers in the various arts 
asked for a deeper knowledge of the agencies they em- 
ployed and the processes they carried out, and so they 
had recourse to science. Thus the art of agriculture has 
profited from the sciences of chemistry and botany, and 
the art of medicine from the sciences of anatomy and 
physiology. The union of scientific principles with art 
is seen in the current use of the expression, " the science 
and art" of agriculture, medicine, and so forth. ^ 

The reason of this is plain from what has been said 
above. The characteristic imperfections of empirical 
knowledge become more and more manifest as an art 
develops. These defects are very conspicuous in the case 
of the more complex arts, particularly those which have 
to do with living things. This is clearly illustrated in 

' The expression "theory and practice" points to the same fact of 
the fertilisation of practical problems by scientific ideas. 



4 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

the case of medicine. The organic processes going on 
in the human body are so numerous and complicated, and 
vary so greatly in different persons, that we cannot easily 
put our experiences into a general form and say, for ex- 
ample, that a particular change of diet will always pro- 
duce one uniform efiect. 

It is important to understand the precise function of 
these scientific principles in their bearing on practice. 
First of all, then, it is to be borne in mind that they do 
not take the place of empirical observations and gener- 
alisations. These are at first, as already remarked, the 
only knowledge by which an art can guide itself ; and 
they always continue to form a valuable part of every 
theory of a practical subject. In other words, know- 
ledge how to do things just because it is "practical" 
must be in touch with actual facts, and have something 
of an experimental character. Science merely supple- 
ments this experimental knowledge, filling up its gaps, 
making it more exact, and harmonising it into a system 
by means of its comprehensive principles or laws.^ It 
lifts us to a higher point of view, and helps us to under- 
stand what we do, alike when we succeed and when Ave 
fail in what we aim at. It sometimes renders more 
direct practical help by enabling us to anticipate the 
slow and uncertain progress of empirical discovery. 
Thus, in the art of surgery, the modern method of treat- 
ino- wounds is laro:ely the direct outcome of scientific 

^ A scientific law— to be carefully distinguished from a legislator's 
"law" — is a truth, respecting the happening or mode of production of 
things, made as comprehensive or universal as possible. The great 
principle of gravitation, as discovered by Newton, and the compre- 
hensive modern biological principle of Natural Selection are examples 
of such laws. 



BEARING OF SCIENCE ON PRACTICE. 5 

reflection on the nature of lesions or " hurts," and on tlie 
natural process of healing. 

Akt and Science of Education. The above re- 
marks may help us to understand the fact that the art 
of education is now seeking to ground itself on scientific 
truths or principles. 

As an art, Education aims at the realisation of a par- 
ticular end. This end must, of course, he assumed to be 
clearly defined before we can repair to science to ascer- 
tain what agencies we can best employ in order to 
compass it. It is the province of Ethics, the highest 
practical Science, which examines the nature of human 
good in general, to determine the end of education. 

Although ethical writers are still at variance as to 
how we should define the chief good of man, and as a 
result of this writers on education have put forth 
different definitions of the end of education, we see an 
approximation to an agreement. What has been espe- 
cially made clear in tlie recent definitions from those 
of Kant and Pestalozzi downwai'ds is that Education 
has to do with tlie development of poiver or faculty, 
that it aims at a full, harmonious realisation of the 
normal capacities of man. Educators are practically 
agreed that their work is to act methodically by social 
and personal infiuence on the growing powers of the 
child, so as to bring to maturity in proper organic con- 
nection and balance all the tendencies and impulses of 
child-nature which have human value, and which enter 
into our ideal conception of a perfect man or woman. 

From this broad definition of education we see at once 
that merely empirical knowledge will carry us but a 
little way in realising our end. For the human being 



g rSYCnOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

which it is our special business to develop is plainly the 
most complex of all living things. It is at once a ma- 
terial organism and a conscious mind or person, and 
each of these has to be considered by the educator. 'Not 
only so, the conscious or mental attributes, which are by 
far the most important, include a variety of powers, some 
of which we mark oif as intellectual, others as moral. 
We find further that these several physical and mental 
powers, being all parts of a connected system or organism, 
interact one upon the other in a very intricate and 
puzzling manner. Closely connected with this peculiar 
complexity of the human being we have its great varia- 
bility, which shows itself even in the child as the germ 
of what we call individuality. It follows from all this 
that mere observation and practical experiment could 
never have led men far on the right educational path. 

It is matter of history that the older methods of 
educating the young were faulty, and in some respects 
radically wrong, just because they were not arrived at 
by aid of a profound and scientific study of the human 
mind and its laws. Thus, to take an obvious instance, 
the cardinal error of making so much of intellectual 
instruction dry and unpalatable arose out of ignorance 
of the elementary truth of human nature that in- 
tellectual activity is only fully awakened under the 
stimulus of feeling in the shape of interest. That this 
was the real source of the blunder is proved by the fact 
that the modern educational reformers, Locke, Pestalozzi, 
and the rest, grounded their plea for reform on a deeper 
study of children's minds. 

Since education aims at developing human powers, and 
since it works on the rudiments of these as they show 



AKT AND SCIENCE OF EDUCATION. 7 

themselves in the child, it is evident that the scientific 
guidance which the educator needs must be supplied by 
a clear and accurate knowledge of the characteristic 
traits and tendencies of child-nature. This will embrace 
the whole organism, of the child, body and mind, its 
various susceptibilities, its ways of reacting on external 
agents and influences, and the manner in which it spon- 
taneously tends to develop. 

Divisions of Science of Education. These prin- 
ciples are derived in the main from two sciences, 
Physiology or the science which treats of the bodily 
organism, its several structures and functions, and 
Psychology or Mental Science which deals with what 
we call mind or consciousness, its several processes and 
the laws of these. The former principles, including 
certain applications of physiological science known as 
Hygiene, underlie what is now called Physical Educa- 
tion, the training of the bodily powers and the furtherance 
of health. The latter form the basis of education in its 
higher phases, viz.^ the training and forming of the mind. 

Mind-training, or education in its higher sense, again, 
falls into distinguishable branches. We commonly mark 
off Intellectual training, or the culture of intelligence, 
from Moral training, or the formation of will and 
character. These divisions, however, do not adequately 
represent the complexity of our mental activity. As we 
shall see presently, a child has not only an understand- 
ing to be enlightened and a will to be disciplined, but 
feelings, such as love and hatred, admiration and con- 
tempt, to be directed to suitable objects. This direction 
is the special work of Esthetic education, the cultiva- 
tion of the finer feelings which we call taste. 



3 PSYCHOLOGY A^D EDUCATION. 

In giving this assistance to education psychology is 
supplemented by three sciences which are not purely 
theoretical like it, but have a regulative or " normative " 
character, their special province being to regulate the 
working of the mind in each of the three forms of activity 
here recognised. These are Logic, which regulates our 
intellectual processes by supplying us with standard forms 
of valid thinking ; Esthetics, which aims at giving us a 
standard of beauty and criteria by which we may judge 
of its existence in any instance ; and Ethics, which fixes 
the ultimate standard of right and wrong action, and 
determines what are the several human duties and 
what constitutes a good or virtuous character. 

It should be noted by the student that Ethics has a double relation 
to education. As the science of ends or human good as a whole it 
stands at the foundation of all education ; as the regulative science 
which has specially to define our conceptions of moral good and virtuous 
character it stands in a special relation to moral training. The two 
relations merge into one if with Kant and Ilerbart we make the 
development of the good will the supreme end of all education. 

The scientific groundwork of the art of education may 
perhaps be made clearer by the following diagram : — 

(C) Educational end. Ethics (as the science of ends). 
C 
Educational processes, A Educational processes, 

(AC) Physical: W2;., Phys- / \ (BC) Mental: viz., V^y- 

iology, together with / \ chology, together witli 

Hygiene. / \ Eogic, ^.sthetics, and 

Ethics (as the science 
of duty and of virtuous 
character). 

Kelation of Psychology to Education. Among 
the several sciences which have to do with the processes 
of Education psychology occupies the chief place. As 




SCIENTIFIC GROUNDWORK OF EDUCATION. 9 

Herbart has it, psychology is the jpriinary auxiliary 
science of the teacher. Although all education, even 
that of the schoolroom, has to do to some extent with 
the bodily health and development of the child, it has to 
do so mainly in its connection with the exercise and 
strengthening of the mind. Psychology has further 
a more immediate and far-reachino^ bearino^ on the 
child's mental development than the ancillary regulative 
sciences, logic, etc. 

It must be evident, indeed, that if the business of 
the educator is mainly the training of the mind to cer- 
tain good practices in thinking and acting, his greatest 
need is a knowledge of the ways in which the mind 
works, and of the action of external forces in exciting, as 
well as in altering the directions of, mental activity. If, 
for example, a teacher wants to know how to get a child 
to take an interest in some branch of knowledge, or how 
to set about correcting a bad habit in a pupil, he will do 
well to acquaint himself with the essential conditions of 
the growth of interest in general, or of the modification 
of habit in general.^ 

As we shall see more fully presently, a child's mind 
develops, and can only develop, by carrying out again 
and again in a progressive order of difficulty certain 
functional activities. By a function or functional activity 
is meant the mode of activity proper to an organ. Thus it 
is the function of a muscle to contract, of a nerve to trans- 

' The student must pay special heed to the ambiguous word " con- 
dition ". As used above in its scientific sense, it points to the forces 
and circumstances on which any product depends, and which togetlier 
make up its cause. Thus fresh air, good diet, normal exercise, etc., 
are conditions of health. 



10 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

mit impulse. Just as our muscular organs grow strong 
and supple by appropriate exercises so do our mental 
organs. Viewed from this scientific point of view, all 
education proceeds by calling forth normal functional 
activity. Thus if a teacher wants to " impart " know- 
ledge, as we say, it is not enough for him to set forth his 
own knowledge in words — he must excite in the child's 
mind certain activities by wliich the knowledge is created 
anew. In other words, education acts by applying 
" stimuli " to a living organism and calling forth appro- 
priate " reactions "} This new conception of education 
makes still clearer its close dependence on psychology. 
We can only work successfully and advantageously 
upon the child's mental organism when we understand 
the modes of reaction proper to it, and the relation 
between certain varieties of stimuli and certain varieties 
of reaction. 

It is sometimes supposed that only certain parts of 
psychology, viz., those dealing with the processes of 
acquiring and reproducing knowledge, need be studied by 
the teacher. But this is an error. Even if one were to 
allow that the educator is to busy himself only with in- 
struction, one mipfht still contend that he needs to know 
something of the child's mind as a whole. As we shall 
see, there can be no adequate training in the acquisition 
of knowledge through words which does not embrace a 
training of the observation and of the imagination also ; 
nay more, which does not go outside the field of intellec- 

1 A stimulus is an external agent applied to a sensitive organ. 
Thus light is the stimulus of the eye. A reaction is the resulting 
action of the organism itself, aa when the eye closes upon the sudden 
approach of an object. 



VALUE OF PSYCHOLOGY TO TEACHER. 11 

tual activity and call in the aid of the feelings under 
the form of a pleasurable interest, and of the will in 
the form of a desire and an effort to learn. 

It follows, then, that the teacher needs some general 
acquaintance with the principles of psychology, even 
though he is aiming merely at the most rapid and effec- 
tive method of " storing " the mind with knowledge. But 
it may be assumed that few teachers now limit their 
efforts to this object. Education, in its true sense, the 
development of power or faculty, is aimed at by the 
intelligent teacher in the process of instruction itself, 
which thus becomes in a measure at least a means to an 
end beyond itself. And some attention is paid as time 
allows and opportunity suggests to the cultivation of the 
feelings and the formation of good moral dispositions 
and habits. This being so, a view of the mind as a 
whole, and a clear apprehension of the way in which its 
several activities interact one on another, may be said to 
be of real service to the teacher. 

It follows from what was said above concerning the 
relation of science to art that there are two principal 
uses of psychology to the teacher. (1) An accurate 
acquaintance with the functional activities of the child's 
mind, which it is his duty to strengthen, develop and 
regulate, will supply him with a criterion or touchstone 
by which he may test the soundness of existing rules 
and practices in education. (2) This knowledge may be 
made to suggest larger views of educational work, better 
methods of training, to direct new educational experi- 
ments, on the judicious carrying out of which the further 
development of the art so largely depends. 

No doubt we may expect too much from a study of 



12 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION, 

mental science. For one thing, a young teacher who 
hears so much in these days about the value of 
psychology may easily be led to think that this science 
is able to point out to him the goal of education as well 
as the way to it. But as Herbart pungently puts it in 
his Letters on the Aj^plication of Psychology to 
Pedagogy, psychology will just as readily help the bad 
educator to attain his aim as the good one. We must 
think out our educational end in the light of the prin- 
ciples of Ethics before we can ask help of psychology. 

A more important point, perhaps, is that even with 
respect to the carrying out of the processes of mental 
training psychology in itself is not sufficient. As we 
have seen, an art is constituted by the organic union 
and interpenetration of scientific principles and direct 
practical experience of the details of the work to be 
done. A teacher is called upon to deal with certain 
children, A, B, C, etc., each of whom has his own indi- 
vidual group of traits, and bears in his manners, language, 
etc., the impress of a peculiar set of home influences. 
It is evident that the account of the general properties 
of a typical mind, which is all that psychology gives, 
will not be a sufficient equipment for his task. He 
must add special knowledge of the mental characteristics 
of the race and class with which he has to deal, and 
must make a separate study of each of his individual 
pupils and of their circumstances. In connection with 
this more concrete and practical view of his work, he 
will do well to get as much guidance as he can from 
other educators' experience. If, as Professor Jos. Payne 
tells us, mere empiricism makes the mechanical artisan, 
not the artist, it is no less true that mere theorising 



LIMITS TO AID FEOM PRINCIPLES. 13 

without actual touch with the concrete practical pro- 
blems and the " instinctive " insight into ways and 
means which is developed by this makes the vague, in- 
competent dreamer. 

Our best systems of training now recognise the truth 
that scientific principles must be clothed with practical 
particulars before they are available for the teacher. 
The lecturer on psychology at the training college must 
aid in this by adding numerous and varied illustrations. 
The students must bring their own concrete experiences 
to bear on their text-book as they read it. Conversely 
they must begin to apply the principles when learned 
both in preparing their own lessons and in criticising 
those of others. I will venture to add that they should 
be encouraged, if not required, to make a careful 
methodical observation of at least one individual child 
with the help of the general knowledge of a child's 
mind which psychology supplies. In this way scientific 
and empirical knowledge will supplement and aid 
one another, and be organised into a special artistic 
faculty, that of the enlightened teacher, ready to under- 
stand and to deal with all new cases of child-nature as 
they may arise. 

REFERENCES FOR READING. 

On tke relation of Psychology to Education the student may con- 
sult : Jos. Payne, Lectures on the Science and Art of Education^ lect. 
i. and ii. ; Herbert Spencer, Education (cheap edition), chap, i., p. 
24 ff. ; A. Bain, Education as a Science, chap. i. ; W. H. Payne, Gontri- 
hutions to the Science of Education, chap. ii. ; S. S. Laurie, Institutes 
of Education, parts i. and ii. ; Introduction to HerharVs Science of 
Education, by Mr. and Mrs. Felkin, introduction and chap. i. ; and 
J. Sully, " The Service of Psychology to Education," in the American 
Educational Jlevieiv, vol. iv.. 1892, p. 313 ff. 



14 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

In French literature the subject has recently been dealt with by G. 
Compayre, Coiirs de Pedagogic, 1*'« le^on ; H. Marion, Lei^ons de Psy- 
chologie, 1^^^ le^on. 

The reader of German may further consult : Waitz, Allgemcin : 
Pddagogik, " Einleitung," § 1 : Beneke, Erziehungs mid UnterricJits- 
lehre, §§ 4 and 5, and T. Ziller, AUgemein : Pddagogik^ "Einleitung". 



CHAPTER II. 

SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Definition of Psychology. The term Psychology 
(from -^vxv, soul, and X070?, reasoned account) may be 
defined as the science which aims at an exact and 
systematic account of the several processes or functional 
activities of our minds. A few words of explanation 
may make this definition clearer. 

First of all, then, it is to be noted that the subject- 
matter of psychology is distinct from that of the physical 
sciences and peculiar to itself. It consists of the feelings, 
thoughts, and other processes of the inner sphere of 
our mental life. Psychology seeks to describe and ex- 
plain what are called psychical states or processes.^ 
It thus stands in marked contrast to the physical 
sciences, such as chemistry and physiology, which have 
to do with physical events in the outer material world 
that we can observe by means of our senses. As 
we shall see presently, Ave cannot investigate the pro- 
cesses of thought and feeling by help of the senses, 

1 The term *' process " as involving a progressive change taking place 
in time is now commonly substituted for the older term " state ". As 
we shall see, all our mental experiences, e.g., our thoughts and our emo- 
tions, are not fixed states but rather mental movements or gradual 
changes. 



16 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

but only tlirough the exercise of a particular power, 
which Locke called an " inner sense ". 

It is important to note that the terms " mind," " mental," when 
used by the psychologist, are used for all varieties of our conscious 
experience. In popular language they refer more particularly to the 
tualintellec processes. A man is said to exercise his mind when he 
remembers or reasons. For the psychologist, however, a sensation of 
taste, and a feeling of pain or of pleasure, are mental or psychical facts. 

In the second place, psychology in its scientific study of 
mental processes confines its view to observable appear- 
ances or " phenomena " (from Greek (^aiuofiat, I appear). 
Any conscious process, e.g., thinking, is described by refer- 
ring it to a subject or person, as when we say" I think," 
" He thinks ". But psychology does not tell us the 
meaning of this " I," this '' ego " as the philosophers say. 
It merely investigates the process of thought as this can 
be observed. In other words, in taking the fact " I think," 
" I feel pain," and so forth, it examines what is meant by 
thinking, by feeling pain, but leaves the " I " or subject 
alone. 

Mental and Bodily Processes. While it is necessary 
to set psychical phenomena in sharp contrast to physical, 
we must keep in view the close connection that exists 
between the two. What we call a human being is made 
up of a bodily organism and a mind. When we speak 
of ourselves or others we always include this double fact. 
John Smith is a material object, that is, a human figure, 
that we can see and touch, to which we refer a conscious 
self having its peculiar individual character. We cannot 
speak of a human action without implying this same 
connection of the physical and the psychical. Thus if I 
say a person is talking, I refer to the physical move- 



NATURE OF PSYCHOLOGICAL INQUIRY. 17 

ments of his organ of speech and to a purpose or voli- 
tion in his mind calling forth these movements. As we 
shall see presently, there is reason to suppose that all 
varieties of psychical processes are connected with 
functional actions of the nervous system. 

How We Observe and Study Mental Processes. 
There are two distinct ways of investigating the 
phenomena of mind. In the first place, I may reflect 
on my own mental processes at the time of their 
occurrence or immediately after their occurrence. In 
this way, for example, I can note a succession of 
thoughts, or a colouring or biasing of the thoughts by 
a feeling of anger. This way of approaching mental 
processes is known as the direct or internal mode of 
observation, or as Introspection (from intro, inwards, 
and sjoicere or specere, to look). As pointed out above, 
Locke spoke of this power of introspection as a kind of 
inner sense. I can examine my thoughts and feelings, 
to some extent at least, as I can examine physical objects 
with the eye. We say indeed that we can fix our 
" mental eye " on a thought passing in our mind. 

In the second place, I may study a mental process in 
another mind so far as this clearly betrays itself in 
outward manifestation. Thus in listening to a person's 
talk I can note the connections which his mind forms 
between certain ideas, in watching his actions I am 
able to study the play of his motives. This is called 
the indirect or external way of investigating mind, 
because we are here getting at mental facts indirectly 
through the medium of certain external manifestations 
perceived by the senses, as the audible word or cry, the 
visible movement or change of colour. 



18 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

This indirect observation of minds is practically un- 
limited in its range. I can investigate the thoughts and 
feelings and actions not only of my friends and personal 
acquaintances but of those of whose doings I hear or 
read. In this way I am able to compare many samples 
of mind varying considerably in their modes of thinking, 
and so forth. 

This extended view of mind in its individual varia- 
tions leads on to what is now known as Comparative 
Psychology, viz., the study of other forms of conscious 
life than that of the civilised human adult, viz., in 
members of uncivilised races, in children, and in the 
several grades of animals. Here it is evident we are 
trying to get at simpler phases of conscious life than we 
can study in our own mature minds. 

From what was said above about the exactness of 
scientific knowledge we may easily see that neither the 
direct nor the indirect mode of investigating psychical 
processes is complete without the other. To begin with, 
since we can only directly observe what is passing in our 
own individual mind, some amount of introspection is 
the first condition of all certain and accurate knowledge 
of mental states. To try to discover what these are 
like merely by watching the external manifestations in 
others would be futile. The gesture, the movement, the 
cry, even the word, on account of which we attribute a 
thought or feeling to another person, is in itself as empty 
of meaning as a mathematical formula to one who knows 
nothing of the symbols of the science. They only take 
on their meaning by a kind of projection into them of a 
reflection of our own thoughts and feelings. When I 
hear a cry of pain or a shout of pleasure I instantly 



HOW WE OBSERVE MIND. 19 

endow the crier or the shouter with a feeling like my 
own when I cry or shout. Certain knowledge of mental 
states must thus begin at home. Those who have the 
clearest knowledge of how they felt when children will 
be the best observers of other children. 

On the other hand, an exclusive attention to the con- 
tents, movements or changing states of our individual 
mind would never give us a general knowledge of the 
mental functions. In order to generalise our knowledge, 
to make it as comprehensive and universal as we can, we 
must widen the field of observation and compare our 
own modes of thinkinor and feelino^ with those of others. 
Moreover, as we shall see later, the indirect study of 
simpler phases of mind, more particularly in the child, is 
of the greatest importance for disentangling and explain- 
ing these complex processes which we find in our own 
maturer minds. 

It may be well to point out that each of these ways of 
studying mind has its characteristic difficulties. To 
attend closely to the events of our mental life pre- 
supposes a certain power of " abstraction ". It requires 
at first a considerable effort to call off our thoughts from 
the interesting sights and sounds of the external world, 
and to fix them on the impalpable, invisible events of the 
inner spiritual world. Even if we succeed in focussing 
our attention on the mental sphere we are met by 
such a confusing tangle of processes that it is only by 
patient effort and prolonged practice in introspection 
that we shall succeed in understanding what is pre- 
sented to observation, and find our way to the elementary 
functions from the play of which all the. variety of our 
mental life arises. 



20 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

On the other hand, in trying to penetrate into the 
conscious experiences of others, there is a danger of 
projecting into them our own particular habits and 
tendencies. This danger increases with the degree of 
remoteness of the type of mind which we are observing 
from our own. Thus we are very liable to read too 
much of our own ways of thinking into children's 
language, and to suppose that their actions are prompted 
by motives similar to our own. In historical studies, 
again, the modern mind is apt to interpret the human 
actions of the past by the standard of modern ideas and 
aims, not allowing for differences in the world-age, in 
racial temperament and in national sentiment. A care- 
ful investigation of others' mental experiences implies 
close attention to the differences as well as the simi- 
larities between the external manifestations of mind in 
different persons, ages and races, also an effort of imagi- 
nation by which, though starting from some remembered 
experiences of our own, we feel our way into a new set 
of circumstances and a new group of mental tendencies. 

Observation of Children's Minds. These difficulties 
are strikingly illustrated in the attempt to note and in- 
terpret the outer manifestations of children's minds. 
This observation is of the greatest consequence to 
psychologists in general, for a sound knowledge of the 
early forms of the mental processes is a necessary pre- 
liminary to a scientific explanation of their later develop- 
ments. And to the educator this knowledge of the 
immature and unformed mind constitutes the most im- 
portant department of psychology. Yet this is perhaps 
one of the most difficult branches of psychological inquiry. 

The reason of this can easily be seen. Children have 



now TO STUDY CHILDREN'S MINDS. 21 

their own characteristic ways of feeling, of regarding 
things, of judging as to truth, and so forth. And although 
the adult observer of children has himself been a child, 
he is rarely able to recall his own childish experiences 
with distinctness and completeness. How many of us 
are really able to recollect the wonderings, the terrors, 
the grotesque fancies of our first years ? Again, 
children are not infrequently held back from fully ex- 
pressing themselves by shyness, by the fear of exciting 
ridicule, and so forth. As another obstacle to our clear 
understanding of the movements of children's minds, I 
may refer to their imperfect mastery of that medium 
of speech by which they have to make known their 
ideas and their wishes. 

Nevertheless, these difficulties are not insuperable. 
They can be got over where there are present the 
qualifications of a good observer, and an earnest purpose. 
And it must be borne in mind that if there are special 
difficulties in the case there are> also special facilities. 
For children as compared with adults are frank in the 
manifestation of their feelings, and free from the many 
little artifices by which their elders are wont, only half 
consciously perhaps, to disguise and transform their real 
thoughts and sentiments in expressing them to others. 

The special qualities needed for a close observation 
and deep understanding of the child-mind are, first of 
all, a trained faculty of psychological observation, and, 
secondly, a keen loving interest in children. Both of 
these are necessary. A person may be practised in 
psychological observation, but if he does not care for 
children, and cannot recall his own childish feelings, he 
will fail to see far into child- nature and child-life ; and 



22 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

this because he cannot place himself in imagination in 
the circumstances of children, so as to realise how they 
are affected by things. A warm, tender interest leading 
to a habit of unfettered companionship seems to be a con- 
dition of a line imaginative insight into children's minds, 
and of a firm grasp of the fact that their ways differ 
in so many respects from our ways. On the other hand, 
if there is the kindly feeling without the trained faculty 
of observation, there is the risk of idealising childhood 
and investing it with a charm and a grace in excess of 
what really belong to it. 

In the matter of child-observation the psychologist 
may look to the educators of the young, the parent and 
the teacher, for valuable aid. Some of the best obser- 
vations on the first movements of the infant mind which 
we already possess have been contributed by fathers 
And much may still be done by parents in the way of 
recording the course of development of individual chil- 
dren. I think, however, that teachers should supplement 
the work of parents here. Private governesses of young 
cliildren have an excellent opportunity of noting and 
recording the spontaneous processes of childish thought 
and impulse, and I have pointed out above that teacher 
students in our training colleges might well be exercised 
in a methodical observation and registration of the pro- 
cesses and the progressive development of the child's 
mind. Even the school might be used much more ex- 
tensively than it has been for collecting observations of 
children, and laying the foundations of Statistics of 
Childhood. This would serve to show, for example, how 
in general memory strengthens with years and the dis- 
ciplinary exercises of school-life, in what order and at 



OBSERVATION OF MIND BY TEACHERS. 23 

what ages particular feelings and interests get fixed and 
deepened, and so forth. 

Experiment in Psychology. One of the most important recent 
changes in the observation of mental processes has been effected by the 
introduction of experiment. In an experiment as distinguished from a 
merely passive observation we ourselves bring about a phenomenon 
which we want to study by arranging circumstances and setting forces 
in operation. Thus it is an experiment when a chemist puts certain 
carefully measured quantities of material into a retort, applies heat to 
the mixture, and investigates the result of the process.^ A good deal 
of this experimental investigation has been carried out in the region of 
the senses. Thus light of different quantities has been applied to the 
eye of a person with the view of ascertaining how much of this light 
stimulus must act before he has a recognisable sensation at all, and 
how this quantity must be increased in order that he may be aware ai 
an increase of sensation. As this illustration shows, the value of these 
new experiments in psychology is that they help to make our know- 
ledge of mental processes more exact, that they enable us in certain 
cases to measnre psychical phenomena and their variations. Thus by 
help of special physical apparatus which registers a very small fraction. 
of a second it has become possible to measure the exact interval 
between hearing a signal and responding by a manual movement to 
this signal as soon as it is heard. This interval, known as " reaction 
time," that is, the time of reacting by muscular movement to a sensory 
stimulus, varies in different persons, being longer in the case of some, 
shorter in that of others. 

It may be added that this new feature of experiment and of experi- 
mental measurement has penetrated the region of child-psychology. A 
beginning at least has been made in the methodical measurement of 
such points as the following : the acuteness of the senses of sight, 
hearing, etc., in children ; the time required for such simple mental 
actions as discriminating two colours ; the number of times a series 
of syllabic or other sounds must be repeated in a child's hearing before 
he can accurately reproduce the series, and so forth. This new line 
of experiment, which will be illustrated more in detail later on, pro- 
mises much for the development of a more exact psychology of the 
child's mind, both in its common features and in its individual variations. 

* For the difference between passive observation and experiment the 
student may consult Jevons' Elementarij Lessons in Logic, xxvii. 



24 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

General Knowledge of Mind. As has been ob- 
served, science consists of generalised knowledge, that is, 
of knowledge expressed in the general form. Psychology 
after collecting observations of mental facts or pheno- 
mena proceeds to generalise by arranging or classifying 
these facts. In this way it reaches the conception of a 
class or group of facts, e.g., "an emotion". In so 
doing it overlooks the differences between fear, anger, 
and other varieties, and fixes its attention on their com- 
mon features or characters. A good scientific classifica- 
tion of the several varieties of psychical phenomena is 
a matter of great practical importance, whether we are 
dealing with mind in the earlier or in the later stages 
of development. Thus the teacher will be in a far 
better position to understand and to act beneficially 
upon a child's mind when he is able, through the 
possession of good general conceptions, to reduce in his 
thought its intricate tangle of processes to order and 
simplicity. 

The last and most important stage of the generalising 
process of scientific investigation is Induction or the 
discovery of la%vs. Such Induction is in the physical 
sciences mostly concerned with what is known as causal 
dependence. Thus the chemist seeks to discover the 
conditions on which the fusion or separation of elements 
depends, the physiologist the conditions of diet, etc., 
which favour health and disease.^ Psychology is also 
concerned with this problem of causal dependence. Thus 

1 Induction, which will be explained more fully-by-and by, means 
reasoning from observations of particular facts to some principle which 
they illustrate. On the meaning of the terms law and conditioTi 
as used in science see above (pp. 4 and 9). 



LAWS OF MIND. 25 

it asks what are the conditions of retention or memory, 
what are the circumstances which produce and favour 
the conservation of clear mental impressions. This know- 
ledge of the laws on which the production of psychical 
facts depends is, moreover, of great practical value. For 
it is only by understanding what are the essential con- 
ditions in the formation of mental products (for example, 
good and bad habits) that we can help in forming them, 
or if necessary interfere so as to modify the process of 
formation. 

Now a little examination will show that mental pro- 
ducts are related in the way of dependence not only 
to processes immediately preceding their appearance, but 
to more remote antecedent activities. For example, every 
time your child responds promptly to your command his 
action presupposes, not only certain present conditions, 
e.g., hearing the order given, but certain past conditions, 
viz.y the prolonged series of changes which we call 
the growth of a habit of obedience. It will presently 
be seen that some of the most important psj^chological 
laws have to do with this conditioning or determining 
of the present by the past. All that we mean by 
Laws of Development illustrates this point. 

While psychology as science deals with the general 
type of mind, and the processes of development so far 
as they go on alike in all minds, it has to allow for 
differences among minds. The variations of mental 
capacity and disposition among children will be touched 
on throughout this work, and at the close an attempt 
will be made to probe these differences more deeply, and 
to show their bearings on education. 

Before we go on to examine the psychical processes 



26 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

in detail we shall do well to look at them from the 
physiological side, that is to say, in their connection with 
certain functions of the bodily organism. This aspect of 
our subject will occupy us in the next chapter. 

REFERENCES FOR READING. 

Students who desire a fuller account of the scope of Psychology and 
its mode of investigation may consult the following : Sully, Outlines of 
Psychology, chap, i., or the advanced work, The Human Mind, chaps, 
i. and ii. (both published by Longmans) ; Hciffding, Outlines of Psycho- 
logy (translated by Miss M. E. Lowndes, Macmillan & Co.), chap. i. ; 
E. B. Titchener, An Oittline of Psychology (Macmillan & Co.), chap. i. ; 
and G. F. Stout, Analytical Psychology (Sonnenschein), vol. i., intro- 
duction. 

On the special subject of child-observation, its methods and its 
difficulties, the following may be consulted : Sully, Studies of Child- 
hood, i. ; Compayre, The Intellectual and Moral Development of the 
Child, American translation (D. Appleton & Co.), introduction. 
The reader of German may also consult Rein's Encyclopddisches Hand- 
huch der Padagogik, article " Beobachtung (Piidagogische) **, 



CHAPTER III. 

CONNECTION OF MIND WITH BODY. 

The Bodily and the Mental Life. We are all 
familiar in a general way with the close connection 
between mental and bodily processes. We know, for 
example, that changes in our bodily state, due to 
fatigue or ill-health, lower our mental energies, that 
mental activity in the shape of excessive strain of 
thought or anxiety reacts on the bodily organs. The 
researches of modern physiology enable us to understand 
better the way in which this interaction of body and 
mind is brought about. This it has done by showing us 
that our mental processes stand in a peculiarly close, con- 
nection with the functional activities of a definite group 
of organs known as the Nervous System. 

The Nervous System. The Nervous System, which 
thus subserves in a very direct and special manner the 
carrying out of our psychical processes, is a particularly 
delicate and intricately arranged set of structures, of 
which only the baldest sketch can be attempted here.^ 
Though a continuous chain of structures it is easily 
seen to be made up of two unlike portions : compact 

^ The student is strongly recommended to obtain if possible some 
acquaintance with the elements of human physiology by help of prac- 
tical demonstrations. 



28 CONNECTION OF MIND WITH BODY. 

masses known as nerve-centres lying protected within 
the bony covering of the skull and backbone ; and ex- 
tensive thread-like ramifications known as nerves con- 
necting these central masses with " peripheral " or out- 
lying regions of the body, as the skin and the muscles of 
the trunk and limbs. 

The nerves, which are bundles of exceedingly fine 
white fibres or threadlets, are the carrying portion of the 
nervous apparatus. These fibres are of two classes. 
The first connect the centres with various parts of the 
surface of the body, also with the internal organs, e.g., the 
stomach. The more important of them are connected 
with organs of special sense, such as the skin, the retina 
of the eye, which are susceptible of being acted on by 
particular external agents or " stimuli," such as me- 
chanical pressure, light, etc. Their function is to trans- 
mit the state of nervous activity produced by this 
stimulation from the periphery to the centre. Hence 
they are known as afferent {i.e., incarrying) or cen- 
tripetal nerve -fibres. Since the mental effect of this 
transmission of activity to the brain is what we call a 
sensation, these nerve-fibres are also called sensory, and 
the peripheral surfaces sensitive surfaces. Such are the 
skin, the retina of the eye, etc. The other class of nerve- 
fibres connect the centres with muscles, i.e., the bundles 
of fibre by the contractions of which movements of the 
limbs, the organ of speech, etc., are produced. They 
carry nervous impulses from within outwards, and are 
known as efferent {i.e., outcarrying) or centrifugal 
nerves. And since this outgoing activity immediately 
precedes and produces muscular contraction, and so 
movement, they are also called motor nerve -fibres. A 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 29 

nerve may consist wholly of sensory or of motor nerves, 
or, as frequently happens, may contain both kinds of 
fibre. 

The nerve centres consist first of all of gray masses 
having a minute cellular structure. Portions of this 
gray substance standing in immediate connection with 
the sensory nerve -fibres are commonly spoken of as 
sensory centres, while other portions connected with 
motor fibres are known as motor centres. The several 
regions of the gray matter both in the spinal cord and 
in the brain are also connected one with another by 
bundles of nerve-fibres. 

The central gray substance has for its peculiar function 
to transform sensory stimulation into movement, and to 
bring about connections or attachments between par- 
ticular varieties and groupings of sensory stimulation 
and suitable motor responses. Thus it is through the 
agency of these nerve-centres that a prick on the hand 
instantly calls forth the movement of withdrawing the 
hand , or that on seeing a child about to fall we stretch 
out the arm and lean forward in order to keep it from 
falling. 

These nerve-centres are arranged in a series or scale 
of growing complexity. The lower centres are those 
residing in the backbone, and known as the Spinal 
Cord. The higher centres lodged within the skull are 
called the Brain. Of these, again, the highest, which 
appear to stand in immediate connection with the 
more important part of our mental life, are known as 
the " cortex " or envelope of the " cerebrum " or big brain. 
The lower central masses are connected by fibres with 
the higher, and at each level in this scale of centres 



30 CONNECTION OF MIND WITH BODY. 

there are fibrous threads uniting one portion of the gray 
substance with other and collateral portions. Of* special 
importance are the "associative fibres," which connect 
one portion of the cortical centres with other portions. 

From this slight account of the nervous system it 
will be seen that the general form of its action is a 
sequence of two processes, viz., one of sensory stimula- 
tion followed by one of motor excitation. This may be 
represented by the following diagram : — 




Representing, in the path indicated by the numerals, 1 to 7, the 
shorter nerve-circuit, which does not involve the brain centres (S M), as 
illustrated in v^^hat are called " spinal reflexes ". (1) Peripheral sensi- 
tive point ; (2) Afferent nerve-fibre ; (3) Spinal sensory cell ; (4) Com- 
missural (connective) fibre ; (5) Spinal motor cell ; (6) Efferent nerve- 
fibre ; (7) Muscle. 

This scheme roughly answers to the simpler type of 
actions of ourselves as well as of the lower animals, the 
type known as reflex action, i.e., unconsidered move- 
ment in immediate response to external stimulus. Thus 
when a child asleep instantly withdraws his foot when 
this is pressed, the action is effected by means of the 
lower spinal centres. Such reflex actions, however, are 
attended with very little if any consciousness. 



WOEKING OF NEKVOUS SYSTEM. 



31 



The considered and complicated actions involve the 
co-operation of the higher centres of the brain as well. 
In this case we have to suppose that the sensory stimu- 
lation instead of passing over at once into motor impulse 
is propagated further, and engages a larger area of the 
central structures. This may be symbolised thus : — 




Eepresenting the longer nerve-circuit through the brain centres 
which is involved in voluntary, action. (1) Peripheral sensitive point ; 
(2) Afferent nerve-fibre ; (3) Spinal sensory cell ; (4) Afferent tract ; 
(5) Cortical sensory cell ; (6) Commissural fibre ; (7) Cortical motor 
cell ; (8) Efferent tract ; (9) Spinal motor cell ; (10) Efferent nerve- 
fibre ; (11) Muscle. 

Such complicated actions are accompanied by a clear 
mental process ; we are conscious when we carry them 
out. They may be illustrated by the act of relieving 
the pressure of a tight boot by stooping and taking it 
off. This action involves a distinct sensation of pressure 
and a process of volition in resolving to get rid of the 
discomfort. 

The Special Organs of Mind. We see from this 
that mental life is connected in a peculiar manner with 
the action of the higher centres which together make up 
the brain. More particularly, fully conscious processes, 



32 CONNECTION OF MIND WITH BODY. 

such as observing and thinking, into which attention 
enters, seem to be connected with the highest centres of 
the brain (those of the cortex), which may be spoken of 
as the 'psychical centres. Only when the brain is called 
to take part is there any distinct mental accompaniment 
of the chain of nervous events. The brain thus stands 
in relation to the lower centres somewhat as the head of 
an office stands in relation to his subordinates. These 
last carry out the mechanical routine of the office ; he 
interferes only when some new and unusual piece of work 
has to be done, and reflection and decision are needed. 
Moreover, just as the principal of an office is able to 
hand over work to his subordinates when it ceases to be 
unusual and becomes methodised and reduced to rule, so 
we shall find that the highest centres of the brain are 
able to withdraw from the nervous process when the 
actions have grown thoroughly familiar. This is illus- 
trated in such actions as walking and writing, which we 
perform with little consciousness of the several move- 
ments of the legs, arms and fingers, because they have 
become easy and mechanical by repetition and habit. 

According to the account here given, the brain may be 
described as a central office to which messages are trans- 
mitted from the external world, and from which suitable 
orders or responses are sent forth to the executive 
organs or muscles. The order need not be sent out 
immediately on receiving the message, as in the illustra- 
tion given. Just as the chief of an office has to take 
time in thinking out his responsive order, say to a letter, 
so the brain. Although we can and often do act at once 
in response to a report of the senses, we often go through 
a long process of reflection and reasoning before we act. 



THE BRAIN AS ORGAN OF MIND. 33 

And we may spend months and years acquiring know- 
ledge for future action. All intellectual study, from that 
of the Kindergarten to that of the University, means 
the elaboration of the reports of the senses into me- 
thodical knowledge, which may not be needed for present 
action but is a necessary preparation for the wise, far- 
seeing action of later life. 

How THE Brain Does its Work. This is not the 
place to go into the obscure and difficult subject of the 
nature of nervous action. One or two facts of practical 
bearing may, however, be alluded to. 

The process of storing energy takes place through the 
nutrition of the brain-substance. As the result of such 
nutrition there are built up certain organic compounds 
of great complexity and very unstable, i.e., easily broken 
down again. When the central organs are active the 
stored energy is said to be liberated ; and this liberation 
of energy means that the cells or cell-groups of the brain 
are disintegrated or broken down, and so need to be 
reconstituted by the processes of nutrition. 

The mechanism by which this making and unmaking 
of the cellular substance of the brain is carried out is 
the capillary circulation. The blood has to bring the 
nutritive materials for the processes of repair ; more 
than this, it has to bring the oxygen which is required 
for the functional activity of the cells when they 
undergo disintegration, and lastly to carry off the waste 
products of this disintegration. The brain may be 
likened to an engine which can only do its work when 
fuel is supplied and refuse is removed. 

We see from this that the central nervous substance is 
being ever unmade and remade, or disintegrated and 
4 



34 CONNECTION OF MIND WITH BODY. 

redintegrated ; and further, that there is a necessary re- 
lation between these two processes of decomposition and 
recomposition. No action of the brain is possible save 
so far as the processes of nutrition are carried out. For 
continued brain action there must be a rhythmic adjust- 
ment of the alternating process of giving out and taking 
in, somewhat similar to what takes place in the rhythmic 
process of breathing. 

The Growth and Development of the Brain. Of 
very special importance to the educator is tlie under- 
standing of the way in which the brain grows. On this 
growth clearly depends improvement of mental power 
and advance in education, 

^As is well known, the brain is large and heavy at 
birth (in the case of the male about 372 grammes).^ 
This weight increases rapidly during the first year 
(reaching over 900 grammes), and continues to increase, 
though at a less rapid rate, till about the end of the 
seventh year, by which time it has almost attained its 
full weight. 

Along with this process of growth of the brain there 
goes on the development or the finer moulding of its 
structure. During the first months the brain-structure is 
very defective. The nerve-fibres are without their sheath: 
the nerve-cells are undeveloped ; the fibrous connections 
between the highest centres in the cortex and the lower 
centres, as well as the clear marking out of and connec- 
tions between the several " convolutions " or folds, are 
very far from being completed. The growth of the brain 
appears to depend on the expansion of the nerve-cells 
and the growth and multiplication of the fibres. Its 

^ A gramme is rather less than 15J grains. 



DEVELOPMENT OF BRAIN. 35 

finer developtnent consists in the structural perfecting 
of these elements, as also in the clearer separating out or 
" differentiation " of the several parts or organs and the 
connecting of these by associative fibres into systems. 
This last may be called integration. ^ In this way the 
highest centres of the brain (in the cortex) are unfolded 
and brought into co-operative action with other parts of 
the nervous system. These processes of structural de- 
velopment go on till maturity is reached. 

The order of development of the nerve-centres is of 
importance to the educator. How pertinent, for example, 
to the wise control of children's movements is a know- 
ledge of the fact that the centres regulating the move- 
ments of the nearer joints, as the shoulders, are developed 
before those regulating the further joints, as those of the 
wrist and of the fingers. Again, there is reason to think 
that the highest centres of the brain (frontal lobes) which 
answer to the more difficult processes of thought are but 
very imperfectly formed during childhood. 

Mental Activity and Brain Efficiency. As 
already pointed out, mental activity is directly connected 
with the exercise of brain-function. The greater the 
mental activity, the more the resources of the brain are 
taxed. We use more brain energy when we think 
"hard" or closely than when we only half think, and 
the more time we spend in such hard thinking the 
greater the consumption of the brain's store of energy. 
It follows from what w^as said above that every such 

1 Differentiation or " differencing " is the transition from similarity 
of parts (homogeneity) to dissimilarity of parts (heterogeneity). In- 
tegration is the connecting of such differenced parts into wholes or 
organic systems. 



36 CONNECTION OF MIND WITH BODY. 

increase of functional exercise makes a heavier demand 
on the resources of the organism, requiring a more rapid 
circulation of the blood. 

If the brain thus furnishes the physical support of 
mental activity, it is to be expected that this activity 
will vary in amount with the state of the organ. And 
this is what we find. We all know that if the nervous 
energy is lowered in any way, as by bodily fatigue, 
grief, etc., the brain refuses to work smoothly and 
easily. On the other hand, the action of stimulants, as 
alcohol, on the brain illustrates how the mental activity 
may for a time be artificially raised by adding to the 
excitability of the central organs. 

The amount of disposable energy in the brain at any 
time, and the consequent readiness for work, will vary 
with a number of circumstances. These may be divided 
into (1) organic, or those which affect the organism as a 
whole, and (2) local, or those which affect the condition 
of the brain itself. 

The Brain as Part of the Bodily Organism. 
(1) Since the brain and nervous system as a whole are 
parts of the bodily organism, which last is a closely 
connected system of organs powerfully interacting one 
on another, a considerable change in the condition of any 
one of these will tell on the efficiency of the brain. Thus 
a state of muscular fatigue coming after severe bodily 
exertion tends to lower the functional powers of the 
brain. More especially the state of the vital organs 
exerts a profound influence on the energies of the brain. 
When a special demand is made on the digestive organs, 
e.g., after a good meal, leading to a diversion of blood as 
well as of nervous energy in the direction of these organs. 



VAEYING STATE OF THE BRAIN. 37 

we are temporarily unfitted for severe brain exertion. 
Functional disturbances in these vital organs, such as a 
tit of indigestion or even an impeded circulation of the 
blood, leading to chilliness and sense of bodily depres- 
sion, are known to be an obstacle to mental activity. 
Once more, all fluctuations in the condition of the 
organism as a whole, whether the periodic exaltation 
and depression of the physical powers which constitute 
the daily rhythmic life of the body, or those irregular 
changes which we call fluctuations of health, involve the 
brain as well. The " organs of mind," as they have 
been called, share with the whole body in the vigour 
and freshness of the morning, and the lassitude of the 
evening. It has been prov^ed experimentally that the 
tide of nervous energy is fullest after sleep, then begins 
to run down till the middle of the afternoon, after 
which there is a slight rise again. Similarly the organs 
of mind share in the fluctuating well-being of the body. 
Lastly, it is all-important for the educator to remember 
that the brain passes through stages of growth and 
decay corresponding roughly at least with the pro- 
gressive growth and decay of the body. Its powers 
in early life are thus necessarily limited by the im- 
perfect state of development of the whole organism. 

Brain-Work and Fatigue. (2) While the efficiency 
of the brain thus depends on the state of the bodily 
organs generally, it is affected by local changes in the 
condition of the organ itself. Thus after a period of 
rest, the cerebral substance being well nourished, there 
is a special readiness for work. It is this circumstance 
which explains the invigorating effects on the brain of 
sound sleep, as also of less complete forms of mental 



38 CONNECTION OF MIND WITH BODY. 

repose, such as are found in the lighter forms of recrea- 
tion. On the other hand, all brain- work tends to exhaust 
the nervous energy and so to lower the subsequent 
efficiency. If the work is light in character we have no 
sense of fatigue. We can often go on for two or three 
hours with intellectual work without being aware of any 
falling oft' in power. On the other hand, when the work 
is severe, as in grappling with some tough mathematical 
problem, we may, even after a short time, become 
distinctly aware of brain-fatigue, and of a temporary 
falling oft* in vigour. In the case of children, whose 
stock of brain- vigour is much smaller, these eftects will, 
it is evident, sliow themselves much sooner. It has been 
proved by experiment that when children are doing class 
work there is a perceptible falling off" in attention, i.e., 
mental activity, after lialf an hour's application. 

The physiological explanation of the phenomenon of 
brain-fatigue is as follows. In the lighter kinds of 
brain-activity the consumption of brain-material being 
small, the process of recuperation easily keeps pace 
with it : waste and repair compensate one another in a 
rhythmic balance. On the other hand, in the heavier 
sorts of mental work, energy is consumed faster than it 
can be supplied ; the process of remaking (redintegra- 
tion) does not keep pace with that of unmaking (disinte- 
gration). 

BEARINGS ON EDUCATION. 

Normal Exercise of Brain. The brain like other 
organs ret[uires appropriate exercise. When the central 
organs are well developed and there is a good supply of 
nervous energy we see that cliildren tend to seek mental 



NOEMAL AND EXCESSIVE BEAIN-WOEK. 39 

activity and to feel depressed and miserable when cut off 
from it. The tedium or ennui from which many lonely 
children are apt to suffer is an expression of this dis- 
position of the brain to carry out its proper activitj^. 
The educator in introducing a certain amount of brain- 
stimulus is thus ministering to its health and its con- 
tinued efficiency. Many children have grown brighter 
and happier after entering on school life, because this 
supplies a healthier regime for the activities of the brain 
and of the nervous system as a whole. 

Not only so, education of some kind is necessary to 
the full development of the brain. Although the child's 
self-prompted activities and the influence of lively com- 
panions may do much to develop his brain-powers, such 
development is apt to be very imperfect. Physiologists 
tell us that only certain selected nerve-cells of the cortex 
of the brain reach a high degree of growth and structural 
development. The educator helps to determine which 
among the thousands of these microscopic germs of cells 
shall reach maturity. 

OvEETAXiNG THE Brain. While a moderate and 
sufficient exercise is thus seen to be beneficial to the 
brain, it follows from what was said above that it is 
possible to exact from the nerve-centres more work 
than it is good for them to perform. 

Such over-stimulation shows itself first of all in hrain- 
fatigtie, which, as we have seen, means that w^ork has 
been carried beyond the point at which recuperation 
keeps pace with expenditure of energy. We are all apt 
to feel muddled or stupid, if not to suffer more distinct 
pain in the shape of headache, after a too severe mental 
strain. 



40 CONNECTION OF MIND WITH BODY. 

A more prolonged excess of brain-work may induce 
other ill etiects of over-stimulation. If we persist in 
studying when cold and hungry, and if, worse still, we 
form a habit of continuing at study to the neglect of 
the conditions of bodily health, we are apt to induce 
graver evils. Nervous breakdown is now known to 
occur as the result of too long and severe an application 
to mental work, more particularly under the artificial 
stimulus of our examination system. It is for the edu- 
cator to bear in mind that these risks of over-stimulation 
are peculiarly great in the case of growing children. 
During the periods of more rapid growth especially, a 
large fund of nutritive material is needed for the pro- 
cesses. If too much is consumed by the brain, the pro- 
gress of physical growth as a whole is liable to be 
obstructed. And when the organism suffers, the brain 
itself, which as we have seen is a portion of it, will in 
its turn suffer too. 

In exercising a child's brain the educator should re- 
member that the several functional activities making up 
the life of the organism are developed in a certain 
order. In the foetal condition, and for some time after 
birth, the vegetable or nutritive functions are pre- 
ponderant. The organism is chiefly concerned in build- 
ing itself up. Then follow the animal functions of sense 
and movement, which begin to come into activity soon 
after birth, though they only attain considerable vigour 
much later. The highest or human functions, those con- 
stituting the intelligent life of man, reach their develop- 
ment later still. A boy of twelve or fifteen may have 
perfect senses and firmness and flexibility of muscle, but 
his brain-powers arc vastly inferior to those of an adult. 



EVILS OF OVEKTAXING THE BEAIN. 41 

This being so it seems to follow that all the higher 
mental training which makes severe demands on the 
brain-organs should be introduced very cautiously and 
only with a certain slowness and by means of wisely 
graduated steps. 

Kemission and Variation of Brain-Exercise. The 
great danger, especially with young children, is that of 
unduly prolonging the duration of the effort of mental 
concentration. A short exertion even of some severity 
may be harmless, whereas an unbroken application of 
mind, of like severity, for half an hour or more may be 
exceedingly harmful. One of the greatest improvements 
in modern educational methods, considered both from a 
hygienic point of view and from that of mental efficiency 
itself, is the substitution of short for long lessons, and 
the frequent relaxation of mental strain in favour of 
free bodily movement. These breaks, though in appear- 
ance occasioning a loss of time, and adding to the teacher's 
labours in restoring order and recalling the pupils' mmds 
to the calm attitude of attention, are in reality a true 
economy of time and force. 

Once more, the newer physiology tells us that the 
brain is a group of organs each of w^hich has its own 
proper functional task to discharge. Thus there are 
centres which are specially concerned in receiving im- 
pressions of sight, of hearing and so forth. Siniilarly 
certain centres are especially engaged in bringing about 
particular movements, as those of the hands. It is pro- 
bable that the higher intellectual processes, imagination 
and thought, specially employ certain parts of the cor- 
tex as their organs. This view of locally restricted 
brain-action suggests that nervous energy may be econo- 



42 . CONNECTION OF MIND WITH BODY. 

mised by a due variation or alternation of activity 
within the school itself. Thus by passing from an object 
lesson to a singing lesson the nervous centres of vision 
may be relieved from their strain, while other centres, 
the auditory and vocal, which have been resting, may 
be called into play. So a certain sense of relief may 
be secured by a transition from a subject which makes 
heavy demands on the centres specially engaged in 
thought, as mathematics, to an occupation which mainly 
engages the senses and the muscles, as the simpler kinds 
of drawing. 

Differences of Brain-Power. The educator should 
bear in mind that the brains of children of the same age 
var}^ greatly in their size and functional capacity. The 
whole sum of vital force resident in the human organism 
is a different one in the case of different children, and 
the distribution of this among the several organs is also 
different. Hence, an amount of mental exercise that 
would be quite safe in one case would be harmful in 
another. 

It is very important that a teacher should thoroughly 
acquaint himself by means of suitable tests with the 
differences of cerebral power among his pupils. Such 
tests may now be applied with something like exactness. 
Thus a child's power of attention both in a short and in 
a more prolonged effort, as in attending to a series 
of syllabic sounds, may, as will be shown later on, be 
measured with a fair degree of accuracy, and such 
measurement (allowing for the differences due to the 
improving effect of exercise itself) is a rough clue to 
differences of brain-energy. 

In all such discrimination of individual brain-power 



HOW BEAIN-POWEE VARIES. 43 

special care should be taken to recognise cases of ab- 
normal defect. The study of the manifestations of 
nervous debility in early life by peculiarities of move- 
ment has already been taken in hand by medical ex- 
perts, and when perfected it may be expected to 
contribute a most valuable addition to our knowledge 
of child-nature. 

EEFERENCES FOR READING. 

A fuller understanding of the connection between mental activity 
and that of the brain may be obtained from one of the recent works on 
Physiological Psychology, e.g., G. T. Ladd, Outlines of Physiological 
Psychology (Longmans), chaps, i. to ix., and xix. ; and from such 
works as H. Maudsley, The Physiology of Mind, and A. Bain, Mind and 
Body. The Growth of the Brain is especially dealt with by H. H. 
Donaldson, Groivth of the Brain (" Contemporary Scientific Series," 
Walter Scott). 

The best work on mental fatigue in school children has been done in 
Germany. The reader of the language may be referred to Kraepelin, 
Ucber geistige Arbeit, Jena, 1894 ; Burgerstein, Die Arbeitscurve einer 
Schulstunde, Hamburg, 1891 ; and the article " Ermiidung," in Rein's 
Encyclopcsd. : Handbuch der Pddagogik. 'The subject is dealt with more 
popularly in such works as Herbert Spencer, Education, chap, iv., and 
Sir J, Crichton Browne, Essay on " Education and the Nervous System," 
in Tlie Book of Health ; also in a number of recent works on Physical 
Education and School Hygiene. 



CHAPTER IV. 

FUNCTIONS OF MIND: KNOWING, FEELING, AND 
WILLING. 

Analysis of Mind, Our study of mental processes 
must begin by an attempt to distinguish their more 
important varieties. This discrimination of one kind of 
process from another can only be carried out by means 
of an introspective examination of what takes place in 
our own minds. Since this examination proceeds by 
'' taking apart " more complex processes in order to 
single out for special inspection their several constituent 
processes it is called Analysis, or more precisely Intro- 
spective Analysis} 

Now if we take an introspective glance at our mind 
at any time we find a rather confused state of affairs. 
Thus the reader may find himself mentally occupied 
with some news of a friend. The tidings bring about 
an excited condition of mind with a confused rush of 
ideas and feelings which it is very hard to distinguish 
one from another. And although some thoughts may 
stand out pretty distinctly, others are very faint and 

1 Analysis (from Greek avaXvoj) means resolving a thing into its parts. 
In certain kinds of analysis, e.g., chemical, a thing may have its parts 
actually separated one from another. In psychological analysis we do 
not make actual separation of the parts, but only examine them apart, 
that is, fix our attention selectively now on this now on that part of a 
mental process. 



ANALYSIS OF MIND. 45 

obscure. Not only so, the total mental state includes 
many elements not connected with the news, such as 
vague impressions of sight and hearing received at the 
moment, and still vaguer reports from the bodily organs 
telling of heat or chilliness, and so forth. 

Yet, difficult as this analysis is, it is not impossible. 
If we take comparatively simple states of mind, if we 
confine our inspection to what is distinct and prominent, 
overlooking what is vague and hard to seize, and lastly 
if we compare one such state with others, we can soon 
disengage from the mixed and confused current of our 
mental life certain constituent processes which recur 
again and again in different combinations. Thus we 
find that though to perceive an object of sight is not 
the same thing as to perceive one of hearing, and though 
perception is different from imagining and from thinking, 
yet they all agree in being modes of intellectual activity. 

Our everyday thought has indeed made us familiar 
with such distinctions. Our common ways of describ- 
ing our mental life suggest that there are three main 
varieties of process. Thus when we observe, remember, 
or reason out something we are said to exercise our in- 
tellectual powers or faculties. When we are the subjects 
of pleasure or pain, of joy, grief, or anger, we are said to 
be feeling. When we are doing things consciously and 
with purpose we are said to be exercising our %vill. 

Triple Function of Mind. The psychologist starts 
from these well-recognised distinctions. He attributes to 
mind a triple function,^ that is, three characteristic funda- 

1 The term " function " is borrowed from biology, where, as we saw 
above, it is a name for the proper mode of activity of any organ, e.g., 
movement, of the muscular organs. 



46 FUNCTIONS OF MIND : KNOWING, FEELING, ETC. 

mentally distinct modes of reaction, viz., (1) the affective 
function, as manifested in feeling ; (2) the intellectual 
or cognitive function, which issues in knowing ; and 
(3) the conative or striving function, which issues in 
willing. (1) The first covers all our pleasurable and 
painful experiences, so far as we are considering merely 
their feeling-tone, i.e., their pleasurable or painful 
aspect. Thus a painful bodily sensation, an emotion 
of love or of anger, with its marked feeling aspect or 
tone, clearly illustrates the aftective function. (2) The 
intellectual function is exercised in the various processes 
of perceiving objects of sense, imagining things, and 
reasoning about them. (3) The conative function, or the 
active function, as it may be called in a peculiar sense, 
is illustrated in simple voluntary movements, as lifting 
the arm, as v/ell as in difficult actions involving effort, as 
lifting a heavy weight, or resisting temptation ; also in 
all intellectual activity in so far as this is directed to a 
purpose or end, as in serious study. 

Functions and Faculties. The reader will observe 
that I have here used the word " function " and not 
" faculty ". Popular psychology is apt to break up the 
mind into a number of distinct powers or faculties. 
Thus it marks off different " intellectual faculties," e.g., 
observation, memory and reason, as though their opera- 
tions were perfectly distinct processes having nothing in 
common. A more scientific view of mind rejects this 
idea. It is true that what we call an act of observation 
differs from one of memory or imagination, since in the 
first case we have an actual sense-impression of the 
object, whereas in the second we have only what is 
called a mental image. And there is a certain practical 



FUNCTIONS AND FACULTIES. 47 

importance in noting these distinctions ; for, as we shall 
see, there is a meaning in saying that the educator has to 
form a faculty of observation, a faculty of memory, and 
so forth. Nevertheless it is a great error, even from the 
practical point of view, to overlook the fact that all intel- 
lectual processes, just because they are intellectual, are illus- 
trations of one and the same kind of functional activity. 
If now it is asked what is meant by an intellectual 
function, we must seek an answer by a more searching 
analysis of the process of knowing. We may take as an 
example my recognition of a friend in the street. Here 
the starting point is a visual impression or " presenta- 
tion".^ The intellectual function shows itself in men- 
tally elaborating this presentation into the recognition 
of " my friend ". Such elaboration consists essentially 
in a more or less distinct apprehension of certain re- 
lations. Thus in discerning my friend I am, first of 
ail, aware, vaguely at least, of a difference between the 
appearance of this person and that of others. That is 
to say, I differentiate or discriminate the visual im- 
pression from other accompanying impressions, those of 
strangers.^ Secondly, in re-cognising the person I 
must at least vaguely apprehend a similarity between 
what I now see and what I have seen before. That 
is to say, I assimilate the present complex sense- 
impression to others previously experienced ; or, as some 

1 Presentation is that which is directly presented to us under the 
form of a sense-phenomenon, e.g., a sight or a sound. It is, as we shall 
see, distinguished from a re-presentation or idea where the sense- 
phenomenon is no longer present, but is " recalled " by the mind. 

2 On the meaning of differentiation as applied to an organic structure, 
see above, p. 35 



48 FUNCTIONS OF MIND : KNOWING, FEELING, ETC. 

would say, I apperceive the impression by help of the 
residua or leavings of previous like impressions. Lastly, 
in recognising him as my frifimd, I take up the new 
sense-impression into a more complex mental whole. 
That is to say, I mentally place the new experience in 
its proper surroundings, recalling the connections of 
time and locality, mentally realising that the person seen 
is So-and-so, who lives at such a place, etc., etc. 

Now here we have the intellectual function resolved 
into three elementary ones.^ All the cognitive work we 
do is resolvable into (a) differentiating material, (h) as- 
similating material and (c) associating or complicating 
material. The material may be given us directly by our 
senses, as in the above illustration; or it may be supplied 
by memory, under the form of mental images, or by the 
processes of verbal suggestion, as when another instructs 
us. But in all cases we are intellectually active just so 
far as we carry out these elementary relationing or 
relation-seizing functions. 

This is intended only as a brief general analysis of the intellectual 
processes. We shall see later that though these three elementary 
functions co-operate in the closest way, one of them may sometimes be 
more prominent than others. The last two are each a mode of bring- 
ing together or attaching, assimilation or apperception being the connect- 
ing of like with like, association the linking together of concomitants. 
Hence they may for convenience' sake be brought together under the 
single head of integration or " wholing ". 

The word apperception (though the term is used in more than one 
sense) seems to be used by later German psychologists with reference 
especially to the process of assimilation. We apperceive a new 

^ The student must be careful to keep clear this analysis of intel- 
lectual activity into three elementary functions from the broad analysis 
of mind as a whole into the three functions, intellectual activity, feel- 
ing, and conation. 



ANALYSIS OF INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY. 49 

sense-impression or a new idea just as far as we can bring it into 
mental proximity to some similar or kindred idea already in our 
possession, which last may be said to illuminate it, and to help us to 
class it.^ 

Taking the view that the intellectual processes are 
made up of simple or primary functional activities, we 
may say that what is popularly known as a " faculty," e.g., 
of memory or of reason, is something secondary, and a 
product of development. Thus a faculty of reason im- 
plies that a person has developed a specialised aptitude 
of a somewhat complex kind as the result of exercises of 
his intellectual functions in certain definite ways. From 
the point of view of the educator, a faculty should be 
thought of, not as a starting-point, something given 
at the outset, hut as a product of education itself. 

Just as a more searching analysis leads us to the dis- 
covery of the elements of the intellectual processes in 
certain simple functions, so it enables us to ascertain 
the most elementary forms of feeling and of conation. 
Thus we shall see that all the variety of aftective states, 
joy, sorrow, fear, love, anger, are, so far as they are 
affective, made up of pleasure and pain. We shall find, 
too, that the simplest and most fundamental form of 
striving or active endeavour (conation) consists in at- 
tention. 

Relation of Feeling, Knowing, and Willing. As 
radically dissimilar functional modes of working these 
three types of process have, of course, to be sharply dis- 
tinguished one from the other. As is implied in what 

^ For an excellent detailed illustration of the process of apperception 
as thus understood, see K. Lange, On Apperception, part i. (American 
translationi Heath & Co.). 
5 



50 FUNCTIONS OF MIND: KNOWING, FEELING, ETC. 

was said above, the three phases of mental activity are 
not equally prominent at all moments. In calm reflection 
we are more intellectual than anything else, whereas in 
tlie first smart of a disappointment we are more affective 
than anything else, and in making an exceptional 
muscular effort we seem to be all conation. If, indeed, 
we take any one of these aspects of mind in a fully 
developed and strongly marked form, we see that it is in 
a manner opposed to the other aspects. Thus a wave of 
passionate feeling excludes at the time calm thinking 
(recollecting, reasoning), as well as concentrated effort. 
Similarly the intellectual process of remembering or 
reasoning when most perfectly carried out leaves no 
place for the intenser degrees of feeling. 

Yet while the three functions are thus not merely 
distinct, but appear to some extent to be antagonistic, 
they are in reality inseparably connected. A mind or 
mental organism is more of a unity even than the bodily 
organism with which it is so closely connected. As we 
have seen, our analysis of mind into functions is merely a 
distinction in our thought of this and that phase : it does 
not imply any actual separation. Our real mental 
processes are always compounded of these three factors. 
We cannot experience any pain without being intel- 
lectually active so far as to perceive the seat or the 
cause of the pain, or without being conatively active 
in striving to get rid of it. So again in our calmest 
intellectual mom^ents we can always detect a faintly agree- 
able or disagreeable accompaniment, a sense of ease and 
success or of difficulty and perplexity, as well as an 
element of conation in attending to our ideas and trying 
to put them in order. Hence we may say that although 



CONNECTION BETWEEN THE FUNCTIONS. 51 

one of the three functions may at a given moment he 
more prominent than the others they always work to- 
gether in producing our concrete mental states. 

As we saw above when examining the workings of 
the nervous system, we are so organised as to respond 
actively by means of our muscular movements to the 
reports we receive from our environment through the 
channels of the senses (see p. 30 f.). So too we find, if 
we carefully analyse our mental processes, that they com- 
monly disclose the same order of events. Thus in 
crossing a street I perceive a vehicle about to come 
athwart my path, and I either stop or hasten my steps ; 
or I hear some interesting news about a friend and 
desire to act upon it in some way. Here, it is evident, 
we have an intellectual process leading up to some 
appropriate action. In both these cases it is to be noted 
that the intellectual process is accompanied by feeling. 
Thus the sight or sound of the vehicle causes an incipient 
fear ; the news gives pleasure or excites hope. 

Now this order is so common as to be typical. We 
may say, then, that our concrete mental processes take 
the form of sense-presentoAions {or ideas) attended to 
and intellectually manipulated under the stimulus of 
feeling, and leading on to apioropriate active decisions 
and endeavours. In other words, our completed mental 
processes consist of (1) a stage of intellectual activity 
accompanied by feeling, (2) a stage of conative response.^ 

^ The student who wishes to see this typical plan of mental process 
more fully described may consult Dr. Ward's article on " Psychology " 
in the Encyclopedia Bvitannica, pp. 39-44. As pointed out above, in 
certain cases, as when acquiring knowledge with no thought of immedi- 
ate use, the conative responses may be said to be postponed. 



52 FUNCTIONS OF MIND: KNOWING, FEELING, ETC. 

Laws of Functional Activity. As remarked above, 
the aim of mental science after separating out by 
analysis the functions of mind is to ascertain the laws 
according to which they work. By this is meant a 
formulation in the most general terms possible of the 
conditions which are necessary to the due carrying out 
of a functional activity and to its full development. It 
is only when we can thus specify the conditions of a 
mental process that we can be said to understand or 
account for it. And a knowledge of the conditions on 
which the discharge of a mental function depends is of 
practical value since it puts us in a position to bring it 
about and to regulate its action. 

Here too mental science is seeking to improve on 
popular psychology; for observation has long since 
taught men that mental products, such as intelligence and 
character, presuppose certain antecedent circumstances 
and influences, such as concentration of mind and re- 
peated efibrt. This is seen in many common sayings, as 
" Experience is the best teacher," " Habit is second 
nature," " First impressions last longest," and so forth. 

{a) Some of these laws of mind embody the general 
conditions of all mental functioning. Reference has 
already been made to the physiological conditions of 
mental processes, more particularly a vigorous state of 
the brain. This, it is evident after what has been 
said, is a preliminary condition of all normal and 
effective psychical activity. Among the more general 
mental conditions Attention is, as we shall see, by far 
the most important. Mental focussing or concentration 
is presupposed alike in all clear knowledge, vivid feeling 
and energetic willing. The laws of attention to be 



LAWS OF MENTAL ACTIVITY. 53 

spoken of presently are thus in a manner laws of mind 
as a whole. 

(6) Next to these universal conditions, there are more 
special ones having to do with some particular mode of 
functioning. Thus there are special laws of intellectual 
activity, as for example those of mental reproduction or 
the revival of impressions. Similarly, there are special 
laws of feeling which seek to formulate the conditions of 
pleasure and pain. Finally, we have special laws of 
conation, as, for example, that the strength of effort 
varies with the intensity of the desire which prompts it, 
that near satisfactions arouse effort more powerfully 
than remote ones. It is to be added that, in as- 
signing the special conditions of feeling, knowing and 
willing, we should refer to the particular nervous pro- 
cesses involved, so far as these are known. 

Since mind is an organic unity, and its several 
functions interact one upon another, the enumeration of 
conditions will have to make reference to such inter- 
actions. For example, we shall see that feeling exerts a 
profound influence on the course of the thoughts. We 
are apt to think and believe what chimes in with our 
hopes and fears, our likes and dislikes. Again, since 
violent feeling, as intense bodily suffering or passionate 
anger, is unfavourable to intellectual activity, it is well 
to refer to the absence of agitating feeling as a " nega- 
tive condition " of such activity.^ 

(c) Still more special conditions have to do with 
some particular mode or variety of the intellectual or 

^ A negative as distinguished from a positive condition means the 
absence of some opposing force v?hich, were it present, would counter- 
act the effect. 



54 FUNCTIONS OF MIND : KNOWING, FEELING, ETC. 

other function answering to wliat is popularly called 
faculty. Thus we may enumerate the special conditions 
necessary to accurate observation or to clear recollection. 
This gives us the law according to which that particular 
" faculty " is said to operate. For example, we explain a 
process of observation by specifying as its chief con- 
ditions, a favourable position of the object observed, a 
special interest in this object, and a certain prepared- 
ness of mind for understanding what is presented. Here 
too we must include in our survey the region of the 
nervous system specially engaged. Thus it is evident 
that accurate visual observation implies as its prelimi- 
nary condition the normal keenness of vision. Further, 
we must, where necessary, refer to those past activities 
which are the pre-conditions of carrying out the present 
process. {Cf. above, p. 25.) 

BEARINGS ON EDUCATION. 

How THE Teacher makes Use of Results of Analy- 
sis OF Mind. The process of psychological analysis just 
described has a direct and important bearing on the 
education of the mind. Every intelligent attempt to 
act upon another's mind must, indeed, be guided by 
some knowledge of its processes. Thus an orator who 
knows what he is about understands something at 
least respecting the nature of an intellectual process 
as well as the difference between an intellectual pro- 
cess and a movement of passion. A perfectly intelli- 
gent action of one mind upon another must be guided by 
a precise scientific idea of the mind's functions. The 
teacher who, under the guidance of the psychologist, has 
got to the bottom of the intellectual processes, and knows 



HOW ANALYSIS AIDS THE TEACHEK. 55 

precisely the elementaiy functions which enter into them, 
will, other things being equal, be best equipped for 
stimulating and guiding these processes. 

To begin with, the new conception that mental pro- 
cesses are reactions of an organism, the carrying out of 
certain functional activities which are appropriate to it, 
is of importance to the educator as correcting an old and 
erroneous conception of teaching. This latter viewed 
a child's mind as something passive, as a receptacle 
into which we can somehow put ideas, or at best as 
a plastic substance on which as on wax we can stamp 
impressions. For all such mechanical conceptions we 
must substitute the biological conception that every 
interaction between mind and mind is an organic pro- 
cess, that in educating a child's mind we have to call 
forth, by a presentation of suitable stimuli, certain ap- 
propriate reactions. In getting a child to move his arm we 
do not act by mechanical processes on this organ, but ex- 
cite its own proper activity by applying a stimulus to a 
connected sense-organ, as by touching his arm or by hold- 
ing out an attractive object to his eye. In like manner, 
when we instruct his mind we present certain intellectual 
material, viz., objects of sense or intelligible words, in 
order to excite those functional activities, attention, dis- 
crimination, etc., in which mental work consists. The 
idea that all intellectual processes are active functioning, 
elaborative reactions carried out on given materials, 
supplies a scientific basis for the modern educational 
maxim that in teaching we have to excite the child's 
" self-activity ". 

To a precise conception of what is meant by a mental 
function or functional reaction the teacher must add clear 



56 FUNCTIONS OF MIND I KNOWING, FEELING, ETC. 

insio-lit into the nature of the several functions. This 
applies with special force to the elementary functions of 
intellect. I believe that every intelligent teacher will 
bear me out when I say that the singling out by modern 
psychologists of the process of discrimination as a funda- 
mental or elementary function of intelligence is tending 
to revolutionise much of our educational work. To 
realise fully the simple and obvious-looking principle 
that all clear knowledge of things, whether gained 
directly by sense-observation or indirectly by verbal 
instruction, is a process of mental separation, of ditler- 
entiation, of discernment, is already to have sur- 
mounted many of the giant obstacles which stand 
menacingly in the teacher's path. 

Nor is it only by way of throwing a more searching 
light on the intellectual processes that this analysis is of 
value to the teacher. It was pointed out above that one 
who is an educator in the complete sense of this term 
aims at developing the mind and personality as a whole. 
Now a scientific analysis enables him to know this 
mental organism better, and to distinguish its several 
constituent lines of activity. I believe that the psycho- 
logical recognition of feeling as a primary function of 
mind is destined to have important consequences for 
education. We are already beginning to recognise the 
importance of the feelings both as a force in child- 
nature and as an element of human worth. A study of 
the feelings seems to me to be absolutely indispensable 
to any one who would work effectively and beneficially 
on the growing mind of a child. 

Use of the Synthetic Conception of Mind. While, 
however, this analytic view of a child's mind is 



ANALYTIC AND SYNTHETIC VIEWS OF MIND. 57 

important to the teacher, being indeed the necessary 
starting-point in any attempt to lay hold of something 
so subtle and complex as a mind, it is not sufficient. 
The synthetic view must supplement the analytic : that 
is to say the teacher must get firm hold on the truth 
that the real living mind of a child is a unity, an organ- 
ism, in which the functions which we mentally separate 
by our analysis are inseparably conjoined. Much of bad 
education in the past has been due to the want of this 
synoptic view, of the apprehension of the mind in its 
living concrete wholeness. We shall see by-and-by that 
dull, lifeless teaching is psychologically wrong just 
because it ignores the truth that all intellectual activity 
is fertilised and sustained by feeling in the shape of 
interest. And just as the educator may go astray by 
overlooking the vital connection and interaction of in- 
tellect and feeling, so he may err by overlooking that 
of feeling and volitional effort, by forgetting that all the 
exertion which is to further moral growth must be in- 
spired by warmth of feeling. 

Value of a Knowledge of Conditions of Mental 
Activity. While the teacher needs this insight into the 
several activities of mind and their connection, he needs 
further a clear understanding of the conditions of the 
normal and perfect carrying out of these activities. The 
new point of view, that teaching proceeds by exciting in 
the child's mind certain reactions, makes it necessary for 
the teacher to know first of all the internal conditions of 
this " self -activity," that is to say, the forces which rouse 
and determine the directions of the functional activity of 
a child's mind, and, on the other hand, which tend to ob- 
struct and counteract its activity ; and, secondly, how the 



58 FUNCTIONS OF MIND : KNOWING, FEELING, ETC. 

action of the teacher may modify these forces. Thus if 
I want to understand perfectly how I am to excite a 
child's attention to some object of sense, or some verbal 
description, I need to have a theory of attention, that 
is, a scientific account of this activity and of its condi- 
tions, and then a practical insight into the various 
means by which I can act favourably on these con- 
ditions, as by selecting what is interesting, by awaken- 
ing curiosity, and by removing external causes of dis- 
traction or wandering of attention. We may express 
this practical truth by saying that since the educator s 
action on the child's mind is essentially indirect, 
being effected by a calling forth and directing of its 
own functional activities through the medium of suit- 
able presentations, it must in order to be intelligent 
comply with the known laws of these activities. 

EEFEKENCES FOR EEADING. 

The student who desires to read further on the classification of the 
mental elements is referred to my Outlines of Psychology, chap. iii. ; 
to Hoffding's Outlines of Psychology, chap, iv., and to Dr. James 
Ward's article " Psychology," in the EncyclopcediaBritannica (" General 
Analysis of Mind "). 

On the bearing of the analysis of mental processes on the division of 
Educational work the reader may consult Felkin's Introduction to 
HerharVs Science and Practice of Education, chap. i. The reader of 
German may with advantage refer also to Waitz, Allgemeine Pad., § 6 ; 
and F. Dittes, Grundriss cler Erziehungs- und- Unterrichtslehre, §§ 23, 
24 and S6. 



CHAPTER V. 

MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

In the last chapter we took a general survey o£ the 
system of activities which constitutes a mind, without 
reference to the successive stages of their development. 
We have now to inquire into the history of this mental 
organism, to ask how it comes to be the complex, mature 
thing which we can study in ourselves and other adults. 
This historical treatment of mind, and more particu- 
larly that part which traces the course of its early 
manifestations, will be found to be of the highest in- 
terest and value to the teacher. What the educator of 
the young wants to know more than anything else is 
how the primitive germs of human capability unfold 
themselves, in what precise order the mind passes from 
the lower forms of activit}^ to the higher. 

General Account of Mental Development. The 
processes making up the development of a human indi- 
vidual have already been touched on in our account of 
the Nervous System (see above, p. 34). We have now 
to examine them more fully. 

The term development denotes that series of changes, 
both in form or structure and in function, which marks 
the progressive life of an individual organism. Thus 
we say that a plant goes through a course of develop- 



60 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

inent as its various organs emerge or grow distinct, 
taking on their characteristic forms and carrying out 
their characteristic functions. 

The terms " growth " and " development," though 
nearly related, are not synonymous. Growth refers to 
increase in bulk, and this, though it takes place nor- 
mally by an increase in the number of elements, and so in- 
volves a measure of development, may be brought about 
in abnormal cases without any corresponding develop- 
mental changes. The essence of development is advance 
in differentiation, that is to say, the emergence of differ- 
ences between part and part (compare above, p. 35). This 
is illustrated in the early stages of the life of every 
organism, in which out of a seemingly uniform or homo- 
geneous substance different tissues begin gradually to 
arise and to form themselves into separate organs. Along 
with this advance in differentiation or " specialisation " of 
parts there goes advance in complexity, or what is known 
as integration of parts into a connected system (com- 
pare above, p. 85). This latter process may also be 
described as organisation. That is to say, the several 
parts differenced out one from another take on connec- 
tions one with another, which connections are necessary 
to a harmonious functioning of the whole as a system 
or organism. Thus the development of a plant means 
that the several organs, as those of circulation and re- 
spiration, are brought into due relation one to another, so 
as to work toofether for the maintenance of the whole 
organism. 

Mental development, which proceeds concurrently 
with cerebral development, is in its essentials similar to 
that of a physical organism. The mental life begins 



CHARACTERISTICS OF DEVELOPMENT. 61 

with each of us as a state of vague, undifferentiated 
*' sentience ".^ The life before birth (fcetai life) is, so 
far as we can conjecture, a state of " sub -consciousness," 
i.e., a kind of drowsy or somnolent state, which is only 
occasionally disturbed by the intrusion of a sudden 
shock of rousing sensation. Even after birth, when 
the higher sense-organs come into play, we have at 
first to do with a confused sub -conscious state, in 
which not only are the sensations of the same sense, 
as those of blue, green and the other colours, confused 
one with another, but even the sensations of one sense 
are not clearly distinguished from those of another 
sense. At this stage, too, feeling, in the shape of 
varying discomfort and comfort, is confused with sen- 
sation, while the "me "and the "not-me" are not yet 
distinguished. In this period, indeed, we can hardly 
speak of any well-marked manifestations of the three 
functional activities : all is a kind of undefined misty 
void. 

Development means the gradual displacement of this 
sub- conscious, drowsy state by a wakeful state, in which 
diflferences or changes are noted and take on definiteness. 
To begin with, the several classes of sensation, as those 
of sight and hearing, become differentiated one from 
another. Later on, sensations produced by external 
causes come to be distinguished as " presentations " from 
the changes in the " feeling- tone " to which they severally 

^ The term " sentience " is here used for the first raw mental 
material which is furnished by the senses, and out of which distinct 
sensations, such as those of sight and of hearing, are gradually differ- 
entiated. It corresponds to the *' protoplasm," out of which the 
oigans of the body are gradually developed. 



G2 



MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 



give rise.^ By a further process ideas are differentiated 
from sense-presentations, and so on. Along with these 
processes of differentiation there go those of integra- 
tion or organisation spoken of above. Thus sensations 
become grouped in what we call complex presentations : 
e.g., the several visual sensations which an infant re- 
ceives when looking at its mother's face, hair, dress, etc., 
become integrated into the visual presentation of the 
mother. In like manner, ideas are brought into connec- 
tion one with another, as when the idea of falling is 
associated with that of a blow, and thus the processes of 
thought become possible. Lastly, each part of the mental 
life is duly co-ordinated with the other parts, feeling 
with thought, and both with volition, in what we call a 
consistent and harmonious whole. 

This complex course of change may be roughly 
shadowed forth by the following diagram : — 




Diac^ram illustrating? the process of mental development m the indi- 
vidual ° FF' stage of foetal life ; F'M, from birth to maturity ; P, A, C, 
piesentative (intellectual), affective, and conative phases, as gradually 
differentiated and interconnected. 

The Biological Theory of Mental Development. 
This typical course of the mind's development is, as 
already pointed out, dependent upon the processes of 
bodily or organic development. We may, indeed, view 

1 On the meaning of these technical terms see above, pp. 46, 47. 



BIOLOGICAL CONCEPTION OF DEVELOPMENT. 63 

the changes making- up the intellectual and moral 
development of a child as forming a part of its whole 
life-history. More particularly these changes are found 
to proceed step by step in close connection with the de- 
velopment of the nervous system. They are, moreover, 
profoundly affected by certain changes in other organs 
of the body, as the important organic changes intro- 
duced by puberty. It will be necessary therefore to 
supplement the above short account of the general 
course of mental development with one or two references 
to what the modern science of biology tells us of its 
organic conditions. 

Development as Predetermined by Racial He- 
redity. One of the most important points in the 
modern doctrine of evolution is that it exhibits the 
series of changes which make up the typical course of 
development in a child, mental as well as bodily, as 
organically predetermined. Every child inherits in 
connection with his organism instinctive tendencies to 
carry out the several functional activities of intellect, 
feeling and conation ; and the sum of these tendencies 
forms the basis of his whole mental development. 
This inherited tendency to take on gradually the typical 
characters of the human species or race (mental as well 
as bodily) may be described as Racial Heredity. 

It follows from the new way of regarding this racial 
inheritance which has been introduced by the doctrine of 
evolution that the order of unfolding of characters, both 
organic and mental, conforms in its larger features to 
the order of unfolding as it has taken place in the 
evolution of the race. Just as the gradual unfolding of 
the bodily form of a child repeats or " recapitulates " the 



64 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

principal stages in the gradual evolution of man from 
lower forms, so the gradual unfolding of his mental 
pov^^ers " recapitulates " the process of racial evolution. 
This general harmony or parallelism is illustrated by the 
comparatively late appearance in the child of speech, a 
power which was developed in the race only when 
man stepped out of his animal condition. Again, it is 
easy to see that the forms of mental activity first de- 
veloped, viz., sense, movement, instinct, ^ are precisely 
those of the higher animal plane, and are, moreover, propor- 
tionally strong in the lowest races of mankind. Similarly^ 
some of the characteristic forms of intellectual activity in 
child-life, such as the fanciful transformation of objects of 
perception, the belief in fairies and other supernatural 
beings, have their parallel in the early stages of the life of 
the race, so far as this is known. This principle has 
been made much use of in modern theories of education. 
Another important point connected with this new 
theory of Racial Heredity is the exceptionally long 
tiine required for the development of a human 
organism and its mental aptitudes. If we take 
a member of one of the animal species, e.g., a dog 
or a cat, we find that within a j^ear or two all the main 
stages of development, both bodily and mental, have 
been run through. The human ofispring, on the other 
hand, requires many years for going through its series of 

^ The student must beware of the treacherous words, " instinct," 
" instinctive ". They are sometimes used to cover all that is original 
and not acquired by individual experience. In this sense they include 
all that I have included under " racial heredity ". Sometimes, again, 
they are used in a narrower sense for original impulses towards parti- 
cular movements, as when we speak of sucking, walking, expressing 
anger by blows, as (in part at least) instinctive. 



HUMAN AND ANIMAL DEVELOPMENT. 65 

developmental changes. This difference is connected 
with the fact of the great complexity of human life as 
compared with animal life. A dog requires for the 
discharge of its life-functions but little experience, 
and, being well equipped with a number of useful in- 
stincts, develops its brain quickly ; a child, requiring for 
the many different actions of civilised life a high degree 
of intelligence, which can only be obtained gradually by 
help of experience, develops its brain slowly. 

One feature of this prolongation of the period of 
mental development in man is of especial interest, viz., 
the lengthening of the period of infancy, that is of 
extreme dependence on others. It follows from the 
very complexity of the process of normal development 
in man that a child must remain for a much lono-er 
period than the offspring of any other species helpless* 
dependent for its maintenance and security on others. 
It seems probable that the duration of the period of 
infancy varies with the complexity of the organism.^ 

Here reference has been made merely to the action' of 
racial heredity in predetermining the lines of develop- 
ment in the child. It remains to add that this force of 
heredity must be supplemented by what the biologist 
calls " the interaction of the organism with its environ- 
ment," ^ i.e., by individual experience and education, 

1 For a fuller account of the new view of infancy, see an article by 
Professor N. Murray Butler on " The Meaning of Infancy " in the 
American Educational Beview, Jan., 1897." 

2 By " the environment of an organism " the biologist understands 
that part of its surroundings which acts upon it. Thus, nutritive 
materials, light and heat, are a part of the environment of a plant. 
•' Interaction " implies that the organism responds to this action of 
its environment, as when a plant turns towards the light. 

6 



66 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

before the full normal course of development can be 
realised. Even a dog or a cat only fully realises and 
perfects its congenital aptitudes, for example, that of 
running and killing its prey, by help of a certain amount 
of individual life-experience and exercise of power. And 
this action of experience is still more plainly seen where 
the animal has to adapt itself to new circumstances, as, for 
example, when a fox, hard pressed by hunger, learns to 
make use of the resources of the barnyard. This need 
of experience applies much more obviously to the child, 
who has so much less of " ready-made " instinctive apti- 
tude than one of the lower animals, and is conse- 
quently much more dependent on the environment ; ^ 
and who, moreover, has to carry out a much wider range 
of adaptation to variable circumstances. 

By the help of this brief preliminary account of the 
process of mental development and of its organic condi- 
tions we may now examine with some care the precise 
forms and the underlying principles of the mental de- 
velopment of a child. 

Psychological Theory. In seeking for the prin- 
ciples which enter into and determine the processes of 
mental development, we may cnnfine our attention at first 
to the progress of intelligence, as being the most interest- 
ing aspect of mental advance, as also the aspect which is 
most easily understood. To begin with, then, it is 
obvious that a part of what we mean by intellectual 

1 This action of this environment on the child's growing mind, here 
briefly touched on, and the part which instinct and heredity on the 
one hand, and experience and education on the other, have to do in 
bringing about full normal development, will be dealt with more fully 
by-and-by. 



PEINCIPLES OF INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT. 67 

development is expressed in the popular saying that 
every function, and special functional modification or 
" faculty," of the mind grows by repeated exercise. A 
child's mind pushes on in the path of development by 
gradual improvements of its powers, such as attention to 
sense-presentations, and discrimination and assimilation 
of these. When, for example, he has once learned to dis- 
criminate two colours, say green and red, he will go on to 
discriminate another pair, as blue and yellow, and, as a 
result of repeated exercises of this kind, to discriminate 
more finely, as between yellow and orange. In other 
words, the processes of development consist in part of 
successive improvanents of the original functional ac- 
tivities of the mind. This covers what is rather care- 
lessly described in popular language as the improvement 
of a '' faculty," as when we say that a child is develop- 
ing " a faculty of observation ". 

Order of Development of Faculties. This gradual 
improvement of the several modes of functional activity 
is, however, clearly not all that we mean by the develop- 
ment of the intellect. As was pointed out in the above 
slight survey of the process, development means a pass- 
ing from earlier simpler forms of intellectual process to 
later and more complex forms. Thus sensation is 
followed by the comparatively complex process which 
we call " the perception of an object ". 

This side of mental development is specially indicated 
by the familiar proposition of modern psychology that 
the " faculties " unfold in one uniform order. The term 
" faculty " here refers to a specialised variety of intel- 
lectual process, such as observation by the senses {cf. 
above, p. 49). Adopting the term in this sense as a 



68 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

convenient one, we may say that the " faculties " of intel- 
lect emerge in the following order : — 

(1) The starting-point of the intellectual life is Sensa- 
tion, or the reception of sense-impressions by way of the 
several organs, the eye, the ear, and so on. In other 
words, the beginning of the intellectual life is the supply 
of that sense-material which the intellect elaborates ac- 
cording to its own laws. A child, knows nothing about 
the external world until the senses come into play, 
and convey impressions of its colours, forms, sounds, 
etc. Along with Sensation we have to take movement, 
which, as we have seen, is organically connected with it. 
(2) Out of Sensation arises the first stage of cognition 
proper, viz., the process of Perception (Sense-observation) 
in which a particular group of impressions is dis- 
criminated from other groups, connected as a whole, and 
recognised under the form of a thing or " object ". In 
this way a child learns to know its ball, on seeing it, on 
touching it, or on hearing it bounce. (3) Out of Percep- 
tion again arises gradually Representative Imagination or 
Memory, the process by which the mind recalls, and has 
an image of, what has been previously perceived. This 
higher plane of the intellectual life is often marked off 
as Ideation. Such imagination or ideation may be either 
direct, representing what has been perceived in its 
original form (Reproductive Imagination), as when a 
child in the dark recalls the face of his mother ; or it 
may be indirect, involving the representation of sense- 
objects in new and altered forms (Productive Imagina- 
tion), as when out of the images of his maid and his 
sister he forms the new image of Cinderella. (4) Finally, 
there gradually appear those highest forms of cognition 



FROM SENSE TO THOUGHT. ' 69 

which we call Thinking, in the correct sense, i.e., thinking 
by means of general ideas, such as " man," " good ". 
According to the common account, these processes of 
thought include Conception or the formation of such 
general ideas (which in their perfect form are called 
general Notions or Concepts) out of particular percepts 
and images, as when the general idea " good " is reached 
by comparing this and that particular action which are 
called good ; Judgment, or the predicating something of 
a subject, as when a child says that his nurse is naughty ; 
and Reasoning, or the process by which we infer new 
judgments from judgments already known, as when a 
child argues that nurse ought to be slapped because she 
is naughty. 

It is evident from an inspection of this scheme of 
development that our intellectual life is ever moving 
farther away from its starting-point, viz., the senses. 
The processes of elaboration, while presupposing the 
accumulation of sense-material, itiean a gradual with- 
drawal from the mere life of the senses. It begins with 
attention to and assimilation of outer impressions ; it 
passes on gradually to inner processes (imagination and 
thought) detached so to speak from the work of the 
senses ; or, as it may also be expressed, our intellectual 
progress begins with presentations, and moves towards 
representations or internal substitutes for presentations. 
And the more the progress advances the farther is this 
process of substitution carried ; memory-images being 
more closely related to percepts than are new images 
which involve a process of production or transforma- 
tion, and these last again more nearly related than are 
general ideas or " notions ". 



70 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

Explanation of Scheme of Development. That 
this scheme roughly describes the actual order of events 
is at once apparent. Every child must have his sense- 
organs acted upon and receive impressions of sense again 
and again before he learns to perceive even so simple 
an object as his mother's face. It is equally indisputable 
that he can only have images and recollections of things 
after perceiving them, and that a certain development of 
perception and imagination precedes general thinking. 
The scheme clearly lays down the broad features of 
intellectual advance, and marks out for the teacher the 
main divisions of his work, the training of the senses, 
the memory and the imagination, and the reasoning 
powers (thought). 

A word or two must, however, be added in order to 
avoid misapprehension. In speaking of the inner life 
of imagination following the outer life of sense-observa- 
tion, and of abstract thought or reasoning following the 
pictorial imagination of concrete things, psychologists 
do not mean that there is first a period, say that of 
infancy, wholly given up to sense-perception, that this 
is followed by another wholly given up to imagination 
and so forth. Memory begins to come into play at 
a very early stage of infancy, and though waiting, so to 
speak, for its advance, on perception develops along with 
this. All that is meant, then, by this chronological 
sequence is that the earlier processes reach a well- 
defined character before the later, and that the fuller 
development of the later processes presupposes a 
sufficiently full d^evelopment of tlie earlier. 

It is to be added that while there is thus an advance 
from sense to thought there is a reverse action of 



MEANING OF OKDEE OF FACULTIES. 71 

thought on sense. As we shall see later, our cognitions 
of things through the senses only become clear and well 
defined by the work of thought. 

Another caution is no less necessary. In speaking of 
these successive forms of our intellectual life under the 
head of "faculties," as Perception, Memory, and so forth, 
the psychologist is using the popular term " faculty " 
in the sense delined above. A deeper scientific ana- 
lysis shows us that throughout this complex move- 
ment of intellectual advance we have to do with the 
same elementary functions of mind. We shall see as 
we go along that what we call a process of percep- 
tion consists of the exercise of the primary functional 
activities of intellect, viz., discrimination, assimilation, and 
association, upon sense-materials, under the lead of that 
simplest and most fundamental mode of mental activity 
which we call (selective) Attention. In like manner we 
shall see that the higher processes, viz., those of im- 
agination and thought, consist essentially of the same 
functional activities, employed about the results of the 
earlier elaborative processes. 

Intellectual Development Due to Progressive 
Exercise of Functions. It was pointed out above 
that the process of intellectual development is explicable 
in part as the result of gradual improvement in the 
working of the functional activities (discrimination, etc.), 
these improvements being brought about by a progres- 
sive series of exercises. We may now see that the whole 
of the process is explicable in the same manner. If we 
regard Perception, Imagination and Thought as alike 
the outcome of the workings of the fundamental in- 
tellectual functions we may say that the appearance of 



72 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

any later stage, e.g., general thinking, depends upon a 
proper and adequate exercise of these functions at a 
lower stage. In other words, the work of the mind, in 
taking apart and organising its sense-material, which 
leads immediately to perception, prepares the way, after 
images have been gathered in sufficient number, for that 
higher intellectual work of thought which we call analy- 
sis and synthesis.^ 

Mental Development and Retentiveness. The 
development of intellect here briefly described clearly 
implies a mental property not yet dealt with, viz., that 
known as Retentiveness. By this term in its widest 
signification is meant that all which we think, feel 
and do leaves us permanently disposed to think, feel 
and do in a like manner in the future. A child that 
observes a thing closely is in so doing forming a lasting 
disposition to observe things closely. This is commonly 
explained by saying that every operation of mind leaves 
a permanent trace behind it. What such " traces " are 
we do not certainly know. It is probable, however, that 
permanent changes in the nervous centres corresponding 
with the particular modes of functioning carried out lie 
at the basis of such " tendencies," so that they are more 
correctly described as psycJio-physical dispositions. 
The law that the nervous structures are modified by and 
adapted to repeated modes of functioning plainly under- 
lies the generalisation, " Exercise strengthens faculty ". 

Retentiveness as Habit. This formation of psycho- 
phj^sical dispositions is the basis of what we call Habit. 
When we say that a person has a habit of thinking in a 

^ On the meaning of " analysis," see above (p. 44). Syr> thesis is tho 
complementary process, viz., mental combination. 



MENTAL GKOWTH AND RETENTIVENESS. 73 

particular way we mean that as the result of repeated 
acts of thought he has got into a lixed manner of think- 
ing. The formation of habits is a very important in- 
gredient in the growth of intellectual aptitudes. As we 
shall see, we learn to think rapidly and easily by forming 
habits of attention, and by laying down firm and smooth 
paths of thought, along which we can move readily. 

Habit is, it is true, by no means the same thing 
as development. Habit refers rather to the fixing of 
mental activity in certain definite directions. Taken in 
this narrow sense, it is in a manner opposed to develop- 
ment in the sense of further adaptation. By frequently 
following out a particular train of ideas in a certain 
way, we may lose the capability of varying this order. 
In this way a child is apt to acquire lasting prejudices 
of thought towards persons, modes of occupation, and so 
forth. Habit represents in our mental life the efiect of 
custom, the conservative tendency ; whereas develop- 
ment implies as its fundamental condition a certain flexi- 
bility of mind, a modifiability of the nervous apparatus, 
and stands for the progressive tendency. It is thus, like 
heredity and congenital instinct, a force which is opposed 
to new adaptations. Nevertheless, the essential principle 
of habit enters into development itself. As we shall see 
later on, it is only as a child masters by repetition a simple 
action, so as to get perfect ease in carrying it out, that he 
is in a position to go on to a more complex action. Thus 
a child must attend again and again to single objects, say, 
one of his mother's eyes, before he can direct his attention 
to both eyes so as to compare them. 

RETENTIVENESS PROPER. In Order that the intellectual 
powers as a whole may be developed, a higher form of 



74 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

retentiveness is needed. That is to say, the traces of the 
products of intellectual activity must accumulate and 
appear under the form of revivals or reproductions. 
As pointed out above, the presentations of sense when 
attended to and transformed into observations are in 
this way recalled as mental images. This is retentive- 
ness in its proper sense. We can only speak of a mental 
retention of impressions when these are capable of being 
" recalled " as images or " representations ". Thi.s revival 
of the products of sense-observation is necessary to the 
higher intellectual operations, for it is these images 
which, as we have seen above, supply the material for 
the more elaborate processes of thought. The rise of 
such free images marks, as we shall see, an epoch in a 
child's development. For it is only when they appear 
and become steady and well defined that he is able 
to go back mentally on his past experience, to compare 
the present with the past, and to begin to arrange and 
classify things according to their common features or 
characteristics. 

These processes of reproduction involve, as I have 
already pointed out (p. 48), the integrative work of 
association. When a child has an image of his absent 
mother it is because this image is suggested by some 
associated presentation, as hearing the sound of her 
voice, or seeing her empty chair. The whole pro- 
cess of intellectual development may be viewed as a 
growing complexity due to ever new associative com- 
binations. A child's knowledge of his mother, of his 
home, of the garden where he plays, and so forth, is 
continually expanding by the addition of new associated 
facts or experiences. The same is true of the develop- 



RETENTIVENESS AND REPRODUCTION. 75 

ments of thought. Here, too, we shall find that with 
the simplification which goes along with arrangement 
and classifying there goes widening of connections. 

Development of Feeling and Willing. While for 
the sake of simplicity we have here confined our atten- 
tion to the development of intellect, it may be added 
that the same features and the same underlying principles 
are discoverable in that of feeling and willing. The ear- 
lier feelings, the so-called " bodily " pleasures and pains, 
are simple, and have a presentative character as being the 
accompaniments of sensations ; whereas the higher feelings 
or emotions, such as fear and love, are complex, and involve 
a good deal of the representative or imaginative element. 

In like manner we find that the earliest manifestations 
of conation are those outward responses to sense-stimu- 
lation which we call bodily movements, such as grasping 
at an object with the hand, crying when the craving of 
hunger sets in. In contrast to these the later are com- 
plex processes, marked by a good deal of the internal and 
representative element (reflection, deliberation, etc.). 

It will be found further that there is the same con- 
tinuity of development in each of these two phases of 
the mental life. And the same general conditions, viz., 
repeated exercise, and retentiveness and association, will 
be found to be illustrated here as in the case of intellec- 
tual development. 

Interdependence of Intellectual, Affective, and 
CoNATiVE Development. We have so far viewed the 
growth of intellect, of feeling, and of volition as processes 
which can go on apart, independently one of another. 
This, however, is a very inaccurate assumption. It has 
already been pointed out that mind is an organic unity, 



76 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

and that the processes of knowing, feeling, and willing 
are vitally interconnected. It follows from this that 
the developments of these phases of mind will be closely 
connected. Thus, as we shall see more fully by-and-by, 
the development of intelligence involves at each stage a 
certain development of feeling and of active exertion. 
A child would make no progress in knowledge if he had 
not the necessary '' interests " — which, as we shall see, 
mean pleasurable associations with what is observed or 
heard about — as well as the requisite active processes (con- 
centration, application). Conversely, the life of feeling 
expands and grows rich and varied through the accumu- 
lation of knowledge about nature and man ; and all the 
higher processes of volition wait, so to say, on the develop- 
ment of feeling and the acquisition of practical knowledge. 
Although it is no doubt true that a child's mind may 
develop in a one-sided way, that is to say more on one 
side than on the others, it is equally certain that develop- 
inent in any one direction implies a measure of develop- 
ment in the other directions. 

This connectedness of each side of development with 
the others is strikingly illustrated in the close depend- 
ence of intellectual growth on the exercise and im- 
provement of the power of Attention. Though clearly a 
manifestation of the active or conative side of mind, 
attention is, as we shall presently see, a prime condition 
of all the intellectual processes. What we call mental 
activity always has reference to the active exertion 
which constitutes attention ; and the higher forms of 
mental activity, as illustrated in the disciplined mind of 
the student, involve, as we shall see, the full exercise of 
the will in the shape of an effort of concentration. 



UNITY OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 77 

Factors in Development. The process of mental 
development here briefly traced is, as pointed out 
above, the outcome of certain original or ' ' congenital " 
tendencies of the child. ^ It would be an error, how- 
ev^er, to suppose that these are all that is necessary to a 
full normal development of a child's mind. An organ- 
ism develops, as we have seen, through a series of inter- 
actions with its environment. The same is true of a 
human mind. A child's intellectual activity and his im- 
pulses towards movement are aroused, as I have said, by 
the action of surrounding objects on his senses. To this 
must now be added that the human individual realises 
himself intellectually as well as morally only so far as 
he comes into contact with others, being acted upon by 
their thoughts, feelings and actions, and in turn adjusting 
his thoughts, etc., to theirs. 

We may say, then, that the typical process of develop- 
ment of a human mind implies two things, (a) normal 
congenital capabilities and (6) suitable surroundings. 
The first may be marked off as the Internal Factor, 
the second as the External Factor, in mental develop- 
ment. 

(a) Internal Factor. Keeping for the present to 
the common typical plan of development and ignoring its 
individual variations, we may say that this process pre- 
supposes first all that is included in the congenital apti- 
tudes and dispositions of a human being. Thus it 
plainly includes the several simple modes of sensi- 

1 Congenital is what belongs to tlie organism &t birth, something 
original and instinctive, as distinguished from what is acquired. It is 
the scientific term answering to the popular term " innate ". All that 
is inherited from ancestors is of course congenital. 



78 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

bility, to light, to sound and so on, in their normal 
forms. Further, it embraces the germs of those capa- 
bilities which I have called intellectual functions, e.g., dis- 
crimination and assimilation. In like manner it will 
include the primary or fundamental capacities of feeling, 
viz., susceptibility to pleasure and pain in its simpler 
forms, as well as the instinctive impulses to act which 
form the natural basis of conation. These last must be 
taken to include the child's instinctive impulse towards 
development, the natural basis of the desire to grow in 
knowledge, power, and so forth. 

This cono^enital basis of what we call a normal human 
mind will, as has been implied above, include a normal 
bodily organism. A proper equipment in respect of the 
organs of the nervous system — particularly those of 
the brain-centres, and of sense and movement — is the 
fundamental condition of a full human experience. The 
importance of properly developed and efficient sense- 
organs and organs of movement is seen in the arrest 
of mental development which accompanies serious de- 
fects of these, whether congenital or, as in the case of the 
celebrated American child, Laura Bridgman, the result of 
illness. 

The natural outht of a normal human mind, here 
briefly described, is the product of what I have called 
Specific or Racial Heredity (see above, p. 63). It re 
presents the sum of endowments of which the human 
species has gradually possessed itself during its long 
process of evolution, and which is preserved for each 
successive generation by what we call inheritance. 

How far this basis of common endowment due to race-inheritance 
extends is a disputed point. According to the " Lamarckian view" of 



THE INTERNAL FACTOR. 79 

Mr. Herbert Spencer and others, the ancestors of children may hand 
on to them by means of a greater natural brain-endowment some of 
the results of their own experience and exertions. That is to say, the 
human brain of the offspring preserves in certain inherited structural 
arrangements and functional dispositions the fruit of its ancestors' 
industry. In this way, for example, a child of modern European 
parents, aided by such transmitted results of ancestral experience, can 
more quickly iearn to reason about cause and effect, and is more dis- 
posed to obey rules and to act morally, than a child born ages ago. 
Others, as Professor Weismann, hold that nothing which has been 
acquired by parents can be transmitted by heredity to their offspring. 
The point is of some interest to the educator in this way. According 
to Spencer's view, the teacher of to-day has somewhat better material, 
both intellectual and moral, to work upon than his predecessor of cen- 
turies ago. On the other hand, according to Weismann's theory, the 
teacher who aims at a higher intellectual and moral result than his 
predecessors has to rely exclusively on better social surroundings, and 
a more perfect system of education. 

(b) External Factor. (1) Natural Environment. 
This, primitive and congenital organic basis being 
assumed, we require further the presence of appropriate 
external conditions and agencies. Thus it is evident 
that the growth of a child's intelligence presupposes 
the forces which act upon the sense-organs and excite 
what we call sense-impressions, together with space or 
room for those movements, which, as we shall see, con- 
tribute to our knowledge of things. Deprived of these 
external conditions, a child's congenital disposition to form 
perceptions and ideas of things w^ould remain undeveloped, 
his rudiment of mind would remain but a rudiment. 
This need of the appropriate agencies for exciting the 
activity of the senses, and through these of the under- 
standing, is strikingly illustrated in the famous history 
of Kaspar Hauser, the German boy who, brought up in 
darkness and solitude, with but few objects of sense to 



80 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

arouse mental activity, had at the age of sixteen hardly 
more mind than a baby.^ 

(2) The Social Environment. In addition to 
what we commonly call the Natural or Physical En- 
vironment there is the Human or Social Environment. 
By this we mean the community, of which every 
individual child is a part, to which from the first 
he is bound in certain relations of dependence and 
obligation, and by which his whole mental life is 
profoundly influenced.'^ The action of this social en- 
vironment, like that of the physical, affects the child's 
mind through the medium of sense-impressions, e.g., 
the sounds of the mother's voice ; yet it differs from 
the action of the natural surroundings in being a 
moral influence. It works through those social and 
moral forces which bind the individual to other in- 
dividuals, such as imitation, sympathy and the senti- 
ment of authority. 

The presence of a social medium is necessary to a full 
normal development of mind. If it were possible to 
maintain a child in bodily health and at the same time 
to deprive him of all companionship, his mental develop- 
ment would be but rudimentary. Kaspar Hauser's 
almost idiotic condition was due in no small measure to 
the absence of human society. The stories of children left 
to run wild in the woods illustrate still more clearly 



^ See the article on Kaspar Hauser in Chavibcrs^ Encyclopcedia ; and 
for a fuller narrative the Quarterly Eevieiv, 1888. 

2 In educational works this human environment is often spoken 
of as " the environment ". This, however, is an inexact use of the 
term. 



THE TWO ENVIRONMENTS. 81 

this need of the social environment.^ It must be evi- 
dent to any one who thinks about the matter that a 
child's intellectual growth is brought about to a large 
extent by continual contact and interaction with others' 
intelligence, by a gradual initiation into the store of 
intellectual wealth amassed by the race, and embodied 
in everyday forms of language and in books. Simi- 
larly the feelings of the child can only quicken and 
develop to the normal fulness and variety under the 
fostering influence of daily companionship, with its free 
interchange of the sigiis or expressions of human emotion. 
And, finally, it is certain that a normal development of 
volition with its higher motives, as obedience, the desire 
to please and so forth, will only be realised when there 
are present a human and humanising environment, 
and all the forces of example and warning, and all 
the subtle and penetrating influence of a moral 
atmosphere.^ 

Undesigned and Designed Influence of Society. 
A part of this social influence on the unfolding mind of 
a child works undesignedly, that is, without any in- 
tention on the part of parent or other companion to 
accomplish a beneficial result. The mode of action 
of the daily contact of a child's mind with those of 

^ A famous story of a child brouglit up quite wild in the woods of 
Lithuania is referred to and made much of by some of the earlier 
psychologists. See for example Condillac's Traite des Sensations, 4me 
partie, chap. vii. 

2 Rousseau's proposal that a child should be withdrawn from human 
companionship till the age of twelve was based partly on his idea of 
the corrupting influence of society, partly, however, on the notion that 
during these first years a child is non-rational, and therefore not a proper 
subject for moral training. 
7 



82 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

other inmates of the house, of the suggestive and direc- 
tive influence of example, of the prevailing intellectual 
and moral atmosphere of a home, resembles in a manner 
the action of natural or physical agencies. At the same 
time it must be borne in mind that these social influ- 
ences are the results of human progress, and of that civili- 
sation which our ancestors have slowly built up for us. 

From these undesigned influences we must distinguish 
those designed agencies which constitute education in its 
proper and all-comprehensive sense. A child comes from 
the flrst under the controlling efforts of the mother and 
nurse, of older sisters, and so forth. Instruction begins 
by the pointing out of objects as well as the presenting 
of these, e.g., pictures. And along with such intellec- 
tual control there goes moral control, the checking of 
naughtiness by gesture-language, the erect finger and 
the ''Hush," later on the laying down of commands 
and the apportioning of punishment and reward. In 
later years society continues to work designedly on the 
young character through the constant pressure of 
established rules of behaviour, and through the moral 
exhortation and suasion of elders, of literature, and of 
tlie pulpit. 

Both kinds of social influence must co-operate in order 
to the development of each of the three great phases of the 
mental life. Kant has taught us — what Rousseau sadly 
failed to see — that every individual becomes human by 
education, that in order to the full realisation of human 
capability and human life each of us has to be subjected 
to the educative influence of the home and the com- 
munity. Thus the intellect of a child grows, partly 
under the influence of contact with the social intelli- 



ACTION OF SOCIETY ON INDIVIDUAL. 88 

^ence reflecting itself in the forms of language, in tradi- 
tional sayings, and so forth ; and partly by the aid of a 
more or less systematic instruction. Similarly feeling- 
develops partly through the habitual contact with other 
minds and the play of sympathy, and partly by direct 
appeals from others. Finally the will develops partly by 
the attraction of example and the impulses of imitation, 
and partly by the forces of suasion, advice, reproof, and 
the whole system of moral discipline. 

It may be added that this action of the environment, 
both physical and social, increases in range as the 
child's mind develops. Thus at first a child is acted 
upon by, and reacts upon, only a few objects, those which 
lie near at hand, and which attract him by their striking 
colour or other interesting feature. As he advances he 
observes a larger and larger number of objects, including 
the hills far off, the sea he visits in the summer, as well 
as the flowers in his garden. Similarly, as he grows, 
he interacts with a larger and larger social environment. 
The influence of the home, and the adjustment of actions 
to those of its rulers and its playmates are supplemented 
by the wider influence of the school, of friends, and of 
public opinion, and by the more complex adjustment of 
actions to those of the community. 

The reader may perhaps be the better able to compre- 
hend the co-operation of instinctive tendencies with the 
growing action of the surroundings by help of the fol- 
lowing diagram :— 



84 



MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 
B 



FE 




Diagram of mental development showing the growing interaction 
between the mind and its environment. AB, line of development, 
wnth congenital tendencies marked on the lower section. PE-P'E', 
physical environment. SE-S'E', social environment. The pencils of 
radiating lines from the points P\ P-, P^ to CE and HJ, DF and IK, 
EG and JL, respectively, represent the increase in area of interaction 
with each environment as development progresses. 

This scheme is intended merely to indicate to the eye the 
several co-operant factors in mental development. The 
student must beware of giving to these any separate 
existence. The mind and its environment only exist 
as correlated one tvith the other. Thus, strictly speak- 
ing, mind remains merely an unrealised possibility apart 
from the action of the forces of its environment ; and on 
the other hand physical and social agencies only become 
an environment by being brought into active relation to 
a living mind.. 



INTERACTION OF MIND WITH ENVIRONMENT. 85 

Not only do mind and environment thus imply one 
another ; there is necessarily an interaction or reciprocal 
action between the two. If the environment acts (by 
way of the sense-organs) on the germ of a child's intelli- 
gence and feeling, the mind reacts on the environment. 
By this is meant two things, (a) It alters the environ- 
ment by way of movements of the organism. Every time 
a child walks from one room to another, or alters the dis- 
tribution of objects in a room, it changes its environment, 
(b) It reacts by way of special interest and selective 
attention so as to determine what particular agencies in 
the environment shall effectually influence it. By attend- 
ing to colours, to musical sounds and so forth a child may 
be said to select these as his own innermost environment. 
Similarly he helps to determine the action of the persons 
about him. Hence we may say: Mental development 
proceeds by the action of environing things and per- 
sons which stimulates certain congenital tendencies, 
and is supplemented by the growing mind's own selec- 
tion of its stimuli. 

Varieties of Development. While all normal human 
minds pass through the same typical course of develop- 
ment, there are countless differences in the details of the 
mental history of individuals. In no two cases, indeed, 
is the process of mental progress precisely similar. Even 
the children of the same family, who may be presumed 
to inherit a similar type of organism and brain, and also 
to be subjected to similar environmental influences, begin 
to follow divergent lines of development from the first. 
Such diversities of mental history answer, it is clear, to 
the differences between mind and mind spoken of in the 
previous chapter. 



86 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

These divergences may be referred to one or both of 
the two factors distinguished above, viz., (a) variations 
of congenital tendency, and (b) differences of environ- 
ment, physical and social. All differences in the final 
result, that is the mature or developed mental character- 
istic, must be referred to differences in one or both of these 
co-operant factors. 

Differences of Congenital Tendency. That chil- 
dren exhibit differences of movement, gesture, as well as 
of sense-power, attention, and so forth, is a fact well 
known to every intelligent parent and physician. Yet it 
is by no means easy to make sure that differences which 
appear as earl}^ as the third year are to be set down 
wholly to congenital tendencies. We must remember that 
the action of the environment begins from the first, and 
that parental training is a great modifying factor even 
during the period of infancy. Although, however, it 
may be im, possible altogether to eliminate the effect of 
early influences, yet we can reduce this to a minimum by 
taking a child soon enough, and by carrying out our 
observation in a methodical and scientific way. 

Such investigation applied to young children has 
already begun to confirm the opinion that they are at 
birth endowed with very unequal degrees of capacity of 
different kinds. Each child is something unique : a 
single instance of a particular group of aptitudes and 
tendencies of certain relative strengths. This peculiar 
grouping of aptitudes and tendencies constitutes what is 
popularly styled the child's nature, but is better described 
as the natural basis of individuality. This congenital 
germ of individual character is determined by the peculiar 
structure of the child's physical organism, more par- 



CONGENITAL DIFFEKENCES AMONG CHILDEEN. 87 

ticularly his nervous system. The original formation and 
the functional ability of the brain, of the sense-organs, 
of the muscular system, and to some extent even of the 
lower vital organs, all serve to determine what we call 
the native idiosyncrasy of a child. 

It is to be added that these congenital differences are 
further important as determining what constituents of 
the environment shall act upon the senses. This is 
strikingly illustrated in the selection of environment by 
the born musician or other artist. The boy-painter in 
a family is surrounded by the same things as other 
members of it, but because of the congenital basis of a 
special interest in colours and forms he observes things 
which the others do not observe, and so practically creates 
his own individual environment within the common one. 
Other and more " ordinary " children select their en- 
vironment, too, though in a less marked manner. Place 
two children among the same surroundings, and they 
will not be acted upon in the same way by these. 

Heredity and Individuality. According to modern 
science these congenital differences of mental character- 
istics are in part at least illustrations of the principle of 
heredity already touched upon. Indeed, when we speak 
of heredity we are apt to think of the transmission, in 
connection with the organism of the child, of peculiarities 
of the parents or of the family. Just as bodily charac- 
teristics of parents, e.g., facial feature and expressive move- 
ment, reappear in their children, so intellectual and 
moral traits are apt to be transmitted, in connection 
with certain peculiarities of the nervous organism, in the 
shape of inherited mental tendencies. 

The transmission by heredity of mental characteristics 



88 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

other than that of the common human lineaments (racial 
heredity) presents itself in a more extended and in a 
more limited form. There is, for example, the trans- 
mission throughout the members of a particular race or 
people of its characteristic group of physical and mental 
features. In this way we get the preservation of the 
Celtic, and more particularly, say, of the Irish type, in- 
cluding its characteristic temperament and mental traits. 
A more restricted and variable mode of inheritance is 
that of family characteristics, and this is the aspect of 
heredity which has most interest and practical importance 
for the teacher. We can sometimes trace throughout the 
members of a family certain common features of face, ges- 
ture, voice, etc., as well as mental and moral characteris- 
tics. Such distinguishing traits, again, though not ob- 
servable in all members of a family, are apt to reappear 
now and again. An interesting example of this recur- 
rence is to be met with in the transmission of a definite 
kind of talent through generations of a given family, as 
for example of high musical ability in the Bach family. 

It is evident, however, that the members of one and 
the same family show marked diversities as well as 
similarities. We often remark, indeed, on the striking 
contrasts of ideas, feelings and inclinations among chil- 
dren of the same family. Such contrasts may be only 
another illustration of the action of heredity, some mem- 
bers of the family representing the traits of one parent, 
or of one parental line of ancestors, 'while other members 
represent those of the other parent or parental line. If 
we could trace back the organic ancestry of a child 
through its many divergent lines, we might probably 
be able to recognise in the peculiarities of that child re- 
appearances of J or " reversions to/' remote traits. 



HEEEDITY. 89 

Yet we are far from being able as yet to resolve all 
individual traits into new combinations of ancestral 
characteristics. Hence though a knowledge of a child's 
family history is often of great service to the teacher, as 
it is to the medical man, in enabling him to understand 
the appearance of certain characteristics, its value is as 
yet greatly circumscribed. In much of what constitutes 
the idiosyncrasy of a child we can see only the result of 
nature's tendency towards what has been called spon- 
taneous variation, i.e., ever fresh modification of type, a 
tendency which seems to be the more clearly marked 
the higher we ascend in the scale of living things. 

Varieties of External Influence. While con- 
genital peculiarities of mind, composing what is some- 
times called natural temperament and character, thus 
play a considerable part in individual development, they 
are not the sole agency at work. In the case of average 
children, at any rate, differences in the surroundings, the 
physical and still more the social, have much to do with 
the differences of ability, disposition and character that 
soon begin to manifest themselves among them. 

The important thing to bear in mind here is that no 
two children ever come under precisely the same environ- 
mental influences. Even twins, who are born into the 
same family at the same time, have from the first a 
somewhat different social environment. Their own 
mother is hardly likely to feel towards them, or to treat 
them, in quite the same way ; and others are wont to 
show this divergence of feeling and behaviour very much 
more. These dissimilarities in the action of the en- 
vironment must be allowed for even though it is true 
that the am.ount of divergence in the lines of develop- 



90 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

ment may be much greater than the amount of the dis- 
similarity in the environmental action. As the years 
advance the sum of the external influences which help to 
differentiate individual character increases. The school, 
the place of business, the circle of friends, and so on, all 
contribute to determine the development of the particular 
stamp of mind and character of the individual. 

That even such slight differences in surroundings must 
produce a certain effect follows from psychological laws. 
The mind develops by interactions with the environment, 
by responding actively to its stimulation, by assimilating 
its nutritive material, sense-presentations. The lines of 
its growth will no doubt be broadly limited by congenital 
capabilities and tendencies, including those special dis- 
positions to select environments which have been spoken 
of above. Yet these do not exclusively fix the lines of 
development. Thus, though a child may have by nature 
special aptitudes and tastes which lead him by preference 
to attend to and assimilate a certain order of impres- 
sions, say those of colour, the question whether his mind 
is to develop vigorously in this direction will turn on the 
presence or absence of a sufficient supply of the required 
sense-stimuli, and on the frequency and strength of these 
as compared with others. The same is true of the de- 
velopment of moral traits. A child may have the natural 
basis of a sympathetic disposition, but he will not grow 
into a sympathetic human being if the germs of fe.eling 
are not fostered by suitable social influences. 

It is impossible in the present state of our knowledge 
to say how much of the diversity of intelligence and 
of character that we find among men is referable merely 
to the superior force of this and that congenital tendency 



NATURE VERSUS NURTURE. 91 

how much to the selective action of surroundings, more 
particularly social surroundings, in fostering certain ten- 
dencies rather than others. The older psychology of 
Locke overlooked the effects of the former. To Locke 
all men appeared to be born with equal abilities, the 
differences which subsequently disclose themselves being 
due to experience and education. Later thinkers, dif- 
fering widely from Locke in their psychology, appear to 
hold the same view. Kant said : " Education can make 
everything out of a man " ; ^ and Carlyle wrote of " the 
all but omnipotence of early culture and nurture ". 

The newer psychology rightly insists on the existence 
of conofenital differences, on the effects of "nature" as 
distinguished from " nurture ". Mr. Galton and others 
have certainly shown that similar conditions of life and 
training do not produce in the case of different children 
projjortionately similar results. And this is just what 
our psychological theory leads us to expect. The force 
of the individual congenital impulse or disposition counts 
for something even in the case of ' * average children ". 
I suspect that school children do much more than the 
teacher is commonly aware in selecting from among 
the intellectual material which he supplies what is 
adapted to their individual aptitudes and tastes. 

At the same time it is possible that, as a reaction from 
Locke's teaching, we of to-day are apt to underestimate 
the effect of surroundings and more particularly of early 
bringing up. These, though of course they are power- 
less unless they find something in the child with which 

1 " Die Erziehung macht alles aus dem Menschen." Schopenhauer 
asserted the exact contrary : " Die Erziehung macht nichts aus dem 
Menschen ". 



92 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

they can come into vital ra'pport, nevertheless help by 
their action to determine which among the many latent 
tendencies of the child shall grow into fixed and definite 
aptitudes, interests, and lines of conduct. 

It is sometimes said that men of exceptional ability 
and character, and more particularly men of genius, are 
less subject to their surroundings than others, that their 
natural impulses push forth with such force as to germi- 
nate and fructify even in spite of unfavourable surround- 
ings. Thus born poets have insisted on becoming poets 
though their parents were sagely convinced that they 
ought to be lawyers or merchants, and musicians have 
found their way to knowledge and renown under the 
most crushing discouragements. This saying embodies 
a truth. The stronger the native intellectual or moral 
bent of a child, the more strenuous his upward aspira- 
tive effort, the more independent will he be of his sur- 
roundings ; or, to put it more accurately, the more 
powerfully Avill he react upon his environment by way of 
choosing what forces shall act upon his development. 
The gifted child, instead of responding to such environ- 
mental influences as happen to play on him, helps to 
create his environment by going in search of congenial 
scenes, by selecting companions, books, etc. Even here, 
however, as great men have again and again testified in 
their published reminiscences, the environment has been 
necessary, and its particular fashion or character has 
in many ways determined the directions of early 
activity.^ 

1 On the relation of education to the development of genius, see 
some valuable remarks by Guyau, Education and Heredity (English 
transl.), p. 104 ff. 



DEVELOPMENT OF GIFTED CHILDREN. US 

The question of the comparativi strength of the internal and the 
external factor in individual development seems at present hardly sus- 
ceptible of solution. As I have said, both factors must combine in 
every process of early development. It is only later on v^^hen the 
individual becomes strong enough to be independent of his surround- 
itig? and to educate himself that development can even seem to advance 
through the activity of one factor only. It follows that in the early 
years, at any rate, development is strictly limited by the range of meeting- 
places or points of coincidence of the two forces. Whenever a child's 
mind advances in knowledge, taste, or virtuous disposition, it is because 
(1) there is some impulse in himself pushing, so to say, in this direc- 
tion ; (2) there happens to be present in the environment some feature 
which answers to this impulse, and calls it into some definite form of 
activity. 

Within these broad limits we may speak of a selective action on the 
part of the stronger forces at work. This selective action may be viewed 
as coming from certain features in the environment, and as specially 
fostering the growth of particular tendencies in the child. This is the 
p^int of view of Locke and of writers on education generally. These 
assume in the child a multitude of germinal aptitudes, tastes and dis- 
positions from among which the environment, by making certain of its 
forces powerful and predominant, is able t^p pick out certain elements 
raising these to a higher level of development. On the other hand, 
writers like Mr. Galton and M. Ribot, thinking more of the case of gifted 
and self-assertive children, conceive of the selection as arising rather 
from the side of the congenital impulses, some of these being able by 
their greater force to develop themselves by attracting to themselves, 
so to speak, the fostering influences of any features in the environment 
which are fitted to nourish and strengthen them. As I have tried to 
show, both points of view are justified, and ought to be kept constantly 
in mind. 



Measurement of Intellectual Development. The new and pro- 
mising work of experimental psychology has begun to concern itself 
with the problem of estimating more exactly the increase of intellectual 
capacity with years and a normal amount of exercise. A good example 
of such systematic investigation is Mr. Gilbert's researches " On the 
Mental and Physical Development of School Ghildren". {Studies from 
the Yale Psychol. Laboratory, 1894, ii,, 40.) These researches, carried 
out on 1400 school children between the ages of six and seven- 



94 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

teen, have tested a number of different capacities which will be more 
fully explained by-and by, e.g., discriminative sensibility as shown in 
judging of the weight of objects, of the intensity of light (degree of 
lummosity), of the visual magnitude of objects [i.e., of objects as seen), 
and of the pitch of tones ; the quickness of motor responses as illus- 
trated in striking repeatedly on the button of an electric key ; the 
shortness of reaction-time, and so forth. These researches show that 
mental capacity in general grows between the ages of six and seventeen 
— at first quickly, then more slowly. A sudden change appears to occur 
in general between the ages of thirteen and fifteen. The researches 
help further to show more precisely how the course of intellectual 
development varies among children. 



BEARING OF THEORY OF DEVELOPMENT ON 
EDUCATION. 

Relation of Development to Education. In saying 
that the full normal development of a child's mind, both 
on the side of intelligence and on that of feeling and of 
character, requires tl\e action of the social environment 
at its best, we virtually say that it requires education. 
No doubt a child born into an instructed and refined 
home will derive much benefit from his surroundings 
even when no methodical discipline of his powers is 
attempted. Yet such chance disconnected social in- 
fluences would never secure a complete human develop- 
ment. The many-sided harmonious development of a 
human being, the full maturing of his powers of thought, 
his capacities of emotion and his moral chai-acter, pre- 
supposes a Tnethodical bringing to hear on tJte un- 
formed mind of all that is best in the social environntent, 
in other ivords, of education. 

The notion, favoured by the sentimental age of Rousseau, that a 
child would best attain to a beautiful development of his nature if left 



DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION. 95 

as free as possible from the artificial restraints of the teacher, has been 
corrected by the idea of Kant and Herbart that man becomes man, i.e., 
attains to the highest realisation of what is distinctively human, only 
as the result of education. Herbart more particularly has emphasised 
the point that the process of normal development is not the result of a 
mere outward movement of the child's inner impulses or activities, 
which activities are predetermined from the first. He holds that the 
course of a child's mental development is rather determined by outside 
influences, by the particular groups of presentations which are supplied 
in the first years, and so requires a careful selection and arrangement 
of these by the educator. Herbart here starting from very different 
psychological principles from those of Locke reaches a conclusion 
which closely agrees with his.^ 



Following Nature. Assuming it to be allowed that 
methodical training is necessary, one may still ask what 
is its precise relation to the processes of " natural develop- 
ment ". The influence of Rousseau and others is still 
recognisable in a good deal of the vaguer sort of writing 
about education. We are continually told to " follow 
nature," to make our teaching conform to nature's 
methods, and so forth. I believe -that there is a fallacy 
lurking in this way of speaking. 

To begin with, then, education is an art and not a 
natural, i.e., a spontaneous and instinctive process.^ The 
early education of her child by an intelligent mother is far 
more than an instinctive process, such as we find in the 

^ See for a brief statement of Herbart's view of the relation of 
Education to Development, Mr. and Mrs. Felkin's Introduction to Her- 
bart's Education, pp. 11, 12. 

2 On the ambiguities of the term nature and its proper meaning 
when contrasted with human effort and art, see the remarkable essay 
on " Nature," by J. S. Mill, in his posthumous volume, 
Beligion. 



96 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

" education " of its offspring by one of the lower animals. 
The methodical, carefully systematised scheme of educa- 
tion of the school is still further removed from such an 
instinctive mode of activity. It is essentially a human 
art, consciously and intelligently aiming at an end, and 
pursuing this by well-defined methods. It is, moreover, 
an art which in a peculiar sense is the creation of the 
community. Education is now recognised as the affair 
of the nation, which by means of it secures its own 
efficient preservation and its further progress. It is, 
further, an art which taxes all the resources of the culture 
attained by the community. Again, education does not, 
as seems sometimes to be maintained, follow the natural 
course of development of a child's mind. Since all 
development of a child's mind (which is worthy of the 
name) includes some amount of stimulation and guidance 
of this mind by others, the " natural course of develop- 
ment " can only mean the effect of such social influences 
as may chance to act upon it. This being so, one must 
maintain that the educator has not only to supplement 
such natural development but to interfere with it and 
to counteract its movements in this and in that direc- 
tion. As an art education must rise above and control 
nature. 

What is true in this talk about following nature is 
that a teacher must understand, and adapt his methods 
to, unalterable facts and laws. Thus he must study, as 
we saw above, the common characteristics of childhood, 
and he must know the permanent laws of mental growth 
and harmonise his course of procedure to these. In 
other words, although he aims at something very high 
above nature, he may be said to take his start from 



FOLLOWING NATURE. 97 

nature, seeing that he can only act upon a child's mind 
at all with real educative effect when he understands 
its proper modes of activity, and the natural order of 
unfolding of its powers, and adjusts the several parts 
of his method of training to these. 

In the first years the intellectual and moral culture of 
the home, more particularly the instruction and moral 
discipline of the mother, constitutes a most important 
beginning of this educative control of the child's mental 
development. Later on the continuous and methodical 
work of the school teacher, though this is more restricted 
on the emotional and moral side, becomes the great and 
dominant factor in intellectual progress. 

Methodical Training of the Faculties. The syste- 
matic character of the teacher's mode of work is implied 
in the word training. This involves the placing of the 
child in well-selected circumstances, and bringing to bear 
on its mind and character certain methodical agencies. 
To train any power of the mind means to exercise it in 
a careful and suitable manner : secondly, to follow out 
continuously a graduated series of such exercises. Thus 
a child's power of observation is trained when pains are 
taken to supply the best modes of exercise, and to follow 
these up in a progressive series. 

Intelligent training, which adjusts itself to natural laws, 
will aim directly at calling forth a power into its proper 
mode of action by supplying the materials, and by arousing 
the needed moral forces, viz., the feeling of interest and the 
desire to gain knowledge, which are adapted to the stage 
of development reached at the time. Training may be 
said to be adapted when it supplies a perfectly suitable 
and adequate exercise of a power, without overtaxing it. 



9S MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

A boy's observing powers are not properly trained if the 
objects presented for examination are too familiar, or if 
they fail to awaken the requisite interest. Training ought 
to aim at exercising a power in the best and fullest way 
permitted by the stage of development reached. 

It follows that in good training the forms of exercise 
should be sufficiently varied to ensure manysidedness of 
development. Thus in training the observing powers 
attention should be exercised in a variety of ways, on 
colours as well as forms, and so forth. By excessive 
exercise of a power is meant a forcing of its activity 
beyond the point most favourable to growth. Training- 
must be progressive, the tasks becoming more complex 
and difficult as the learner's ability improves. 

In this connection it may be well to repeat that the 
best and most intelligent training is that which directs 
itself to what is most essential and central, so to say, in 
a mental process. Thus a good teacher in carrying out 
an object lesson will keep in view the importance of 
carefully discriminating the several parts, as also the 
several qualities, of the object, and of assimilating what 
is now seen to what has been seen previously.^ 

Training to Follow the Natural Order of De- 
velopment OF the Faculties. As implied in what has 
been said in the preceding paragraphs, the educator in 
training the several " faculties " must conform to the 
natural or predetermined order of development of these. 
One of the really definite and valuable products of modern 
educational thought is that it is vain for the teacher to 
" rush " a child into the thicket of grammatical and other 
abstractions ; that the training of the intelligence must 
' Compare above, p. 47 f. 



ORDER OF DEVELOPMENT OF FACULTIES. 99 

begin with a methodical and complete exercise of the 
senses and powers of observation ; that the time devoted 
to this fundamental part of school work is more than 
saved by the gain in intellectual material thus stored up, 
which makes all the processes of ideation and thought 
more rapid, and their results more complete and valuable. 

As we have seen, the process of intellectual development 
is one connected whole, and consequently the training and 
educational formation of the earlier " faculties," observa- 
tion and memory, prepares for that of the higher powers of 
thought. At the same time the teacher must not suppose 
that by exercising the lower forms of intellectual activity 
he is doing the same thing as by exercising the child's 
mind in thinking about more abstract subjects, such as 
number and form. He should take care to move on, as 
the processes of development permit, to the training of 
the higher powers. To know exactly when to begin 
the more diJEficult exercises of thought implies, as will be 
explained more fully by-and-by, careful child-study, 
both general and individual. 

Each branch of training should not only be begun as 
soon as possible, but should be continued with progressive 
increase of difficulty up to the required level of perfec- 
tion. This expression points to a gradation of values. 
It is important to bear in mind that the development of 
a fine sense-capacity and even the production of accurate 
observing powers, though of considerable importance, are 
chiefly of intellectual value as laying the foundations of 
the higher activities of intelligence. We may easily keep 
a child too long at exercises in observation, just as Ave 
may easily keep him too long at memory-work, for- 
getting that both alike are preparatory for what is 



100 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

highest and best in human intelligence, the power of 
arranging our concrete facts, of thinking out their general 
aspects, their mutual relations, and their governing laws. 

The perfect following out of this principle of pro- 
portionate training leads to that harmonious develop- 
ment of all the powers of the mind on which Pestalozzi 
and others have laid emphasis. In order to determine 
wherein such a complete and harmonious development 
consists, one must, it is evident, have clear ideas about 
the human being in his ideal completeness. We must 
understand not only how in this ideal organism the lower 
forms of intellectual activit}^ play a subordinate part, 
but how intellectual culture as a whole ranks in value 
in relation to moral education (compare above, p. 56). 

No Isolated Training of a Faculty. While I have 
thus dealt with the teacher's work as though it could be 
broken up into portions corresponding to the several in- 
tellectual and other powers of the child's mind, I would 
warn my readers against the danger which lurks in all 
such language. Properly speaking, the mind is at no 
time wholly engaged in one variety of activity. A child, 
as soon as he becomes intelligent at all, will begin when 
observing an object to exercise at the scmie vioment his 
memory and the germ of his thinking powers, as, for ex- 
ample, in saying that this tiger in the cage is like pussy, 
and must be very old. What we call intelligence is at 
once observation, memory and thought : it is a whole 
organised group of processes. The educator who clearly 
seizes this truth will see that while in particular lessons 
he may rightly make his primary and chief aim the 
training now of observation, now of imagination, he 
must in every case appeal to the child's intelligence as 



TKAINING OF THE FACULTIES. 101 

a whole, encouraging him to remember and to compare 
while he observes, and to reason while he remembers 
or imagines. Since, moreover, as we have seen, to exer- 
cise a child's intellect implies an appeal to his feelings 
and an arousing of his will, we may say that all good 
instruction involves a training of the ivhole mind. 

Finally, training in order to be adequate must be to 
some extent elastic, adapting itself to the numerous 
well-marked differences among young minds. Up to a 
certain point a common result, namely, a typical com- 
pleteness of mental development, will be aimed at. It 
would not be well for example that any child, however 
unimaginative naturally, should have his imagination 
wholly untrained. To omit to train a power because it 
seems to be defective would be a great blunder, if only 
for the reason that we can never know whether a power 
is defective in a child until we have followed out a care- 
ful course of exercise. Hence the evil of the too early 
specialisation of study so often seen in schools, especially 
those which aim at training for scholarships. At the 
same time it is certain that this typical plan of cultivation 
will have to be modified in detail. The educator does 
well to bear in mind that the stronger the natural germ 
the more economical the production of a perfected apti- 
tude. Hence it would be wasteful to give as much time 
and thought to the cultivation of a poor natural ability 
in a child, say for languages, as of another ability, say 
for natural science, which is decidedly good. Nor do the 
practical ends of life impose such a disagreeable task on 
the teacher. Variety of individual development has, as 
we shall see later on, a high social value. 



SUPPLEMENT TO CHAPTEK V. 

PERIODS OF DEVELOPMENT. 

While mental development is one continuous process, it has 
its landmarks or turning-points which divide it into im-'wch, 
these being marked off one from another by certain dominant 
characteristics, physical and psychical. A careful sketch of 
each of these periods, with the characteristic changes which 
distinguish it from preceding stages, would supply a valuable 
addition to the theory of mental development, more particu- 
larly in its bearing on education. 

A number of writers on education have adopted this mode 
of tracing the complex movements of mental growth. Thus 
Beneke distinguishes four periods : (1) to about the end of the 
third year, in which the consciousness of self and not-self 
gradually unfolds, and which is characterised by the predomi- 
nance of the outer sense-life, including instinct ; (2) to about 
the end of the seventh year, in which the inner mental activity 
(representation) gradually develops itself to the point of equi- 
librium with the receptive functions of sense, and instinctive 
impulse gradually gives place to conscious design ; {2>) to about 
the end of the fourteenth year, in which the inner self-activity 
becomes free from sense and acquires preponderance, first and 
chiefly as imaginative activity, then as a tendency to abstract 
reflection or thought ; (4) to the close of school-life, in which 
the higher mental powers are more fully developed, and which 
forms a transition to the period of independent intellectual 
and moral activity. 

A more careful and elaborate division of the mental life into 
periods is attempted by Pfisterer. (1) According to this the 
tirst period is marked off as the suckling age (to end of first 



PEEIODS OF DEVELOPMENT. 103 

year), in which the bodily life and sense are in the ascendant, 
and instinct takes the place of will. (2) Next comes the age 
of childhood (from the second to the seventh year), which is re- 
garded as the beginning of the school period. Here there 
manifests itself a germ of self-consciousness, though the outer 
world is still engrossing. Curiosity shows itself in its lowest 
form as a desire for novelty. Memory and imagination are 
active, and the rudimentary stage of abstract thought or con- 
ception is reached. Activity is abundant under the form of 
free, aimless play. The disposition to respect authority and to 
form habits of obedience now shows itself, assuming, towards 
the close of the period, something of the aspect of a willing re- 
flective submission to moral rules. Feeling now. loses some- 
thing of its first violence, and is being organised into per- 
manent dispositions (Stimmungen). (3) After this follows the 
'period of boyhood and girlhood (from the seventh to about the 
fourteenth year). This constitutes the age of elementary 
school instruction. It is marked by a clearer exhibition of 
individual peculiarities. The intellectual processes gain in 
steadiness under the control of a stronger will-power. Hence 
there becomes possible the more orderly constructive activity 
involved in learning, as well as the methodical formation of 
abstract ideas. A growing habit of self-control now asserts 
itself. The progress of intellectual and volitional capacity leads 
to the development of independent judgment, free choice, and 
self-reliance. Finally, this period is characterised by the 
development of new feelings, viz., the social, intellectual and 
aesthetic sentiments. (4) The period of youth (forming the 
interval between the school period and manhood, and supply- 
ing the transition to perfect independence and self-reliance in 
thought, feeling and action) is only briefly glanced at.^ 

1 A similar but more elaborate division of stages of development 
is given by B. Hartmanu, in the article " Alterstypen," Rein's Encyclop, 
Hanclhuch der Pddagogik . 



104 SUPPLEMENT. 

It is evident that in thus trying to mark off periods of 
development reference should be made to great and decisive 
physiological changes. Of these the first is the well-marked 
termination of the helplessness of infancy (early in the second 
year) by the development of the muscular system, whicli 
results in locomotion (walking). This development of the 
power of locomotion brings a vast extension of the field of ob- 
servation and knowledge, as well as of that of voluntarj^ action. 
This epoch is further defined by the introduction at its close 
of the beginnings of the all-important function of speech. 
Another date, hardly less epoch-making, is the attainment of 
pubert3^ a point of development in which certain physical 
changes, bringing with them new instincts, are apt to affect 
profoundly both the intensity and the range of the emotional 
life as a whole, and along with this to exert a marked influence 
on the directions of intellectual activity and of conduct.^ 

REFERENCES FOR READING. 

For a fuller account of the processes of mental development the 
reader may consult the following : Herbert Spencer, Principles of 
Psychology, vol. ii., part viii. ; Romanes, Mental Evolution in Man, 
chap. xi. 

On the modern doctrine of Heredity and the bearings of the theory 
of Evolution on mental development in the individual, the following 
will be found useful : Th, Ribot, Heredity ; J. M. Guyau, Education 
and Heredity ; Lloyd Morgan, Habit and Instinct (especially chap. xv.). 

For the readers of German there are also the articles in Rein's En- 
cyclop. Handbuch der Pddagogik, " Alterstypen," " Begabung-anlagen," 
and " Evolutionismus und Piidagogik ". 

The bearings of the theory of development on Education are treated 

' According to Sir J. Crichton Browne, the course of physical develop- 
ment can be divided into periods of seven years by help of the following 
epochal changes : (1) primary dentition (first year) ; (2) secondary 
dentition (seventh year) ; (3) puberty (fourteenth year) ; and (4) maturity 
(? addition of wisdom teeth) (twenty-first year). See Book of Health, p. 
319 and following. 



PEEIODS OF DEVELOPMENT. 105 

of by Herbert Spencer, Education, cbap. ii. (with which should be read 
W. H. Payne, Contributions to the Science of Education, chap, iv.) ; 
Lloyd Morgan, Psychology for Teachers, chap. vii. ; and Guyau, Edu- 
cation and Heredity, especially chaps, ii., iii., and vii. ; in French, 
among others, by Henri Marion, Legons de Psychologic, sixieme to 
huitieme ; and, in German, by Beneke, Erziehimgs unci Unterrichts- 
lehre i., p. 101 ff. ; Waitz, Allgem. Pad., §§4 and 6 ; Dittes, Grundriss 
der Pddagog., §§ 22-24 ; Piisterer, Pddagog. Psychologic, § 2 ; and Gus- 
tav Lindner, Grundriss der Pddagog. als Wissenschaft {cf. the article 
" Evolutionismus und Pidagogik " in Rein's Encyclop. Ilandbuch). 



PAET IL 

DEVELOPMENT OF INTELLECT. 
CHAPTER VI. 

PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS : SENSATIONS, ETC. 

We shall now proceed to trace more in detail the pro- 
cesses by which the several functional activities of the 
mind develop, and as a result of this the whole mental 
life gradually takes on its rich complexity. 

Here we must, it is evident, set out with the elements 
which are necessary for the formation of the several pro- 
ducts which our mental life discloses. These are given 
to us at the outset, being secured by certain congenital 
arrangements of the nervous system. Such elements are 
the sensations of hunger, taste, smell, etc., which involve 
no productive activity of the mind itself, but arise as 
soon as certain nervous processes occur. Having briefly 
revicAved these elements, we shall examine the mental 
activities which serve to elaborate them into such mental 
products as perceptions, ideas, and so forth. 

In lollowing out these processes of mental growth, we 
shall at first be occupied with those of intellectual de- 
velopment, since, as pointed out above, there are certain 
conveniences in studying these before the processes which 
constitute the development of feeling and of conation. 



INTELLECTUAL FUNCTION OF SENSES. 107 

(A) THE SENSES AND SENSATIONS. 

It is evident that in order to understand how a child 
comes to know things, we must examine the function of 
the senses; for all knowledge of objects, their properties 
and their laws, depends on the use of these. They 
supply the material which, when acted on by the 
functional activities of mind, takes on the shape of what 
we call a cognition.^ 

This function of the senses in cognition is particu- 
larly manifest in early life : " Our first teachers of philo- 
sophy," says Rousseau, " are our feet, our hands, our eyes ". 
They are necessary, however, for the later as well as for 
the earlier processes of intelligence. An examination 
of our most abstract notions respecting the physical 
world, such as force and geometrical figure, leads us 
back to these impressions of sense. Our ideas respect- 
ing the nature and properties of things are limited by 
our sensations. The want of a sense, as in the case 
of one born blind, means the deprivation of the mind 
of a whole order of ideas. The addition of a new 
sense, if such a thing were possible, would enrich the 
mind by a new kind of knowledge respecting the world.^ 

Sense-Materials or Sensations. The senses fur- 
nish us with certain materials which are variously called 

1 This is a different idea of their use from that- set forth in the oft- 
quoted saying of the mediaeval schoolmen : " Nothing is in the intellect, 
which was not previously in the senses ". As we shall see, intellect is 
not a receptacle into which the senses can discharge their " im- 
pressions " : it is a group of activities by which sense-impressions are 
transformed into those new products which we call cognitions. 

' Condillac, an ingenious writer of the last century, tried to show 
how the successive addition of the senses of touch, sight, etc., would 
enlarge the mental life of an imaginary statue. 



108 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS: SENSATIONS, ETC. 

" impressions," ''sense-impressions," etc. The most com- 
prehensive general name for these is Sensation. Thus 
the proper function of the sense of touch is to supply 
sensations of pressure. Taking sensation to be the in- 
tellectual material supplied by a sense, we have to view 
it as something perfectly simple and original. A bitter 
taste, a soft touch, are changes in our consciousness 
which we cannot derive from anything simpler : we can 
only say that they are given to us. We can only account 
for them b}^ saying that they are due to the activity of 
a sense-organ. We may then define a sensation as 
a sini'ple mental state resulting from the- stimula- 
tion of the outer extremity of an " incarrying " nerve, 
when this stimulation has been transmitted to the 
higher brain-centres or " psychical centres " (compare 
above, p. 32). Thus the stimulation of a point of the 
skin, e.g., by pressing or rubbing, is said to be the ex- 
citing cause of a sensation of touch. 

It must, however, be carefully understood that we 
never experience perfectly simple sensations. For one 
thing, the stimulation of our organs of sense rarely 
if ever gives us a single sensation. For example, in 
taking into the hand a glass we have a number of sen- 
sations of pressure and temperature by which we know 
that it is cold, smooth, hard, etc. What is still more im- 
portant, the simplest conceivable experience is made up 
of sensations as just defined, and something more, viz., 
mind-activity. Thus, as we shall see, a child does not 
hear sounds till it begins to single out from the confusion 
of aural " sentience " first presented, particular elements, 
attending especially to these, and so discriminating 
them. Hence it would be well to describe the function 



SENSE-MATERIALS. 109 

of a sense as the supplying of sense-materials, rather than 
of well-defined sensations. 

These sensations or sense-materials have two broadly 
distinguishable aspects, one of which is commonly pre- 
dominant. The first is the affective or emotional aspect, 
by which is meant the presence of a distinct feeling-tone, 
pleasurable or painful. A sensation of bodily warmth or 
of sweet taste illustrates this prominence of the feeling- 
aspect. The second aspect is the intellectual or know- 
ledge-giving. By this is meant the presentation in the 
sense-material of definite and clearly distinguishable pro- 
perties which, when they come to be attended to and re- 
cognised, may be called marks or " characters " because 
they serve as clues to the qualities of external things. 
They may be best spoken of as presentative characters. 
The definite variety of sensation experienced on touching 
a smooth surface, or on hearing a sound of a particular 
pitch and loudness, is an example of the predominance 
of such presentative characters. 

General and Special Sensibility. All parts of the 
organism which are supplied with sensory nerves, and 
whose functioning consequently gives rise to sensations, 
are said to possess Sensibility of some kind. But this 
property appears under one of two very unlike forms. 
The first of these is common to all sensitive parts of 
the organism, and involves no special structure at 
the outer extremity of the nerve. The second is 
confined to certain parts of the bodily surface, and 
implies special terminal structures or " end-organs," 
such as the curious nerve-terminations in the skin 
and in the retina of the eye. To the former is given 
the name Common or General Sensibility, and also 



110 rSYCHICAL ELEMENTS : SENSATIONS, ETC. 

Organic Sense ; to the latter, Special Sensibility, or 
Special Sense. 

The sensations falling under the head of Common Sen- 
sibility or the Organic Sense are marked by the absence 
of definite characters. They are vague and ill-defined. 
Their distinguishing peculiarity is that they have a 
marked pleasurable or painful aspect. Such are the 
feelings of comfort and discomfort connected with varia- 
tions in the processes of digestion, in those of the cir- 
culation of the blood and attendant thermal changes, and 
so forth. These sensations are not, like those of touch 
or sight, directly connected with the action of external 
stimuli, but arise from a changed condition of the part of 
the organism concerned. As such they give us no know- 
ledge of the external world. They are no doubt im- 
portant as informing us of the condition of the organism 
itself ; but owing to the vagueness of their presentative 
characters they give us very little definite knowledge 
even of this. 

The sensations of Special Sense are those we receive by 
way of the five senses. They are marked oflf one from 
another by great definiteness of presentative character. 
This peculiarity is connected with the fact that each sense 
has its own specially modified structure or " end-organ " 
— e.g., the nerve-appendages of the eye and of the ear — 
which is fitted to be acted upon by one particular kind of 
stimulus (light-vibrations, air-waves, etc.). Owing to 
this definiteness of character the special sensations are 
much more susceptible of being discriminated and recog- 
nised than the organic sensations. Moreover, these sen- 
sations are (in ordinary cases) brought about by the 
action of external stimuli or agents exterior to the 



GENEEAL AND SPECIAL SENSE. Ill 

organism, and are on that account commonly described 
as " impressions," or as '' sense-impressions ".^ For these 
reasons they are fitted to yield us knowledge of our 
environment. 

Presentative Characters of Sensations. The two 
most important distinctions of presentative character 
which run through our several varieties of sensations 
are those of Degree or, as it is better named, Intensity, 
and of Kind or Quality. 

The " intensity " of a sensation refers to a difference 
of quantity. It is illustrated in the difference between 
the impressions due to a bright and a faint light, to a 
loud and a soft sound, to a gentle and hard pressure on 
the skin. As our way of speaking about it neces- 
sarily implies, the intensity of a sensation rises and falls 
with the strength or force of the stimulus.^ All classes 
of sensation exhibit such differences of intensity. They 
are of great importance for knowledge. Thus the degree 
of pressure which a heavy body, such as a leaden ball, 
exerts on the hand helps to tell us of its weight. 

A difference of Kind or of Quality is illustrated in 
the difference between sensations of sour and sweet, of 
blue and red. The peculiar quality of a sensation, as 
that produced by a blue colour, is supposed to be con- 
nected with the form of the nervous process involved. 

^ The sense-impression which we are here concerned with, e.g., 
the sensation of being pricked, is a menial phenomenon, and must be 
carefully distinguished from the physical "impression," e.gr,, the dent 
or puncture in the skin. 

2 The exact way in which intensity of sensation rises with strength 
of stimulus is set forth by Weber's Law. See W. James, Psychology, 
p. 17 ff. 



112 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS: SENSATIONS, ETC. 

It is known that blue rays of light have a different rate of 
vibration from other rays, and it is probable from this 
that they produce a ditierent kind of effect on the optic 
fibres. All sensations have distinctions of quality : the 
difference between a touch and a taste is one of quality. 
These qualitative peculiarities of our sensations, again, 
are presentative characters, which serve as marks of 
external facts. Thus we distinguish flowers in part 
by their differences of colour, voices of men and women 
by their differences of pitch and " timbre ". 

The Five Senses. Coming now to the senses in 
detail we see that they do not all exhibit the same degree 
of definiteness or the same number of distinct presenta- 
tive characters. We usually speak of Taste and Smell 
as the coarse or unrefined senses, whereas Hearing and 
Sight are described as the refined ones. By attending 
simply to the degree of refinement we may arrange the 
senses in the following ascending order, Taste, Smell, 
Touch, Hearing, Sight. A few words on the special 
function of each must suffice here.^ 

Taste and Smell. These two senses present a 
decidedly low degree of refinement. Indeed the sensa- 
tions of these senses may be said to approach the 
organic sensations in want of definiteness, and in the 
predominance of the element of feeling (pleasure and 
pain). These peculiarities are connected with the fact 
that these senses have as their function the announce- 
ment of what is wholesome or unwholesome to the 
organism as a whole. The very situation of the organs 

1 Here, again, I have to assume some elementary knowledge of 
physiology, viz., the part which describes the structure and function 
of the sense-organs. 



THE FIVE SENSES. 113 

at the entrance of the digestive and respiratory cavities 
suggests that they are sentinels to warn us as to what is 
good or ill. The sensations of taste and smell tend to be 
confused one with another, and they cannot be dis- 
tinguished either in intensity or quality as finely as 
those, say^ of light or sound. For this and other reasons 
they are of comparatively little importance as knowledge- 
giving senses. It is only under special circumstances, as 
those of the chemist, the wine-taster and so on, that these 
" servants of the body " supply a considerable quantity of 
exact knowledge about the properties of external objects. 

Touch. The sensations of touch are brought about 
through the action of some external object on the end- 
organs of the nerves of touch, which organs are situated 
in the skin. They commonly include both sensations of 
pressure and those of temperature. 

These tactile sensations supply important elements of 
feeling.^ Thus contact with smooth surfaces and with 
warm, soft bodies is, as we know, one chief source of 
sensuous pleasure, especially in early life. 

The chief importance of touch resides, however, in its 
intellectual aspect. In its highest degree of develop- 
ment, as it presents itself at definite portions of the 
bodily surface, more particularly the hands, and pre-emi- 
nently the finger-tips, the tactile sensibility becomes a 
most important means of ascertaining the properties of 
bodies. The sensations of touch have a much higher 
degree of definiteness of presentative character than 
those of taste or of smell. 

1 The student should notice here the ambiguity of the word " feel- 
ing ". All touching is " feeling " in one sense : the word in the text 
refers of course to the pleasure-pain aspects of touch-sensations. 
9 



114 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS : SENSATIONS, ETC. 

The discrimination of degrees of intensity by the tac- 
tile sense is estimated by laying a weight on the hand; 
or some other part, and then trying how much must be 
taken away or added in order that a difference may be 
just perceived. This measures what is known as the Dis- 
criminative Sensibility to Pressure. It is found that 
this sensibility varies considerably in different regions of 
the bodily surface. For instance, on the anterior surface 
of the fingers the smallest difference of pressure detected 
is only about one-half of that recognised on their posterior 
surface. That is to say, we have about twice as much 
discriminative sensibility to pressure on the front surface 
as on the back surface of the fingers.^ 

This discrimination of degrees of pressure by the skin 
is one of the means by which we obtain knowledge of 
the force exerted by bodies, e.g., the difference of weight 
when a heavy or a light body presses on the hand or the 
foot. 

In the case of touch we have a further difference of 
sensation which, as we shall see, is of very great im- 
portance. If a small coin is laid on the palm of the 
hand, and then a second, which, though having no more 
weight than the first, covers a larger area of the skin, 
we can by the sense of touch alone say that the second 
is larger. This property of more or less *' spread " in our 
sensation of touch has been called volume, cr, better, 
extensity. It appears to have as its physiological ground 

' In speaking in this chapter of discriminative sensibility and of dis- 
crimination, I am referring merely to the possihle differences of 
intensity, etc., which the structure of our sense-organs allows of. As 
already pointed out, the realisation of 'these differences, or discrimina* 
tion proper, involves the co-operation of mind with sense. 



SENSE OF TOUCH. 115 

the stimulation of a smaller or greater number of nerve- 
fibres. 

Closely connected with this extensity of tactile sensa- 
tion is another property. If a person is blindfolded, 
and then has his hand lightly touched, say, by the 
points of a pair of compasses, he will, provided that 
these do not come very near one another, be aware of 
two touches. This has been called " plurality of points " 
It may be better designated as the local distinctness of 
our touch-sensations, or local discrimination of touch- 
sensations. This local discrimination, like the discrimi- 
nation of pressure, varies considerably at different parts 
of the bodily surface. It is much finer in the mobile 
parts of the body (fingers, tongue, lips, etc.) than in the 
comparatively fixed parts (the trunk). It decreases 
rapidly as we go from the extremities, as the finger- 
tips, towards the trunk. It is finer, too, on the anterior 
surface or palm side of the hands than on the posterior. 
We see from this that the anterior" surfaces of the finger- 
tips are specially marked out as the organ of tactile 
sensibility} 

These two properties of touch, extensity and local dis- 
tinctness, are of the greatest consequence for knowledge. 
It is by means of these that we get to know about what 
is called ''extension," i.e., the shape or figure and the 
size of an object, also the distance between one object 
and another when they simultaneously touch us. Thus, 

1 The tip of the tongue, which has even more local discrimination 
than the finger-tips, is very constantly employed as a touch-organ in 
exploring the mouth. A fuller account of Weber's celebrated experi- 
ments, on which these results are based, can be found in W. James, 
Psychology, chap, v., p. 62. 



116 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS : SENSATIONS, ETC. 

in laying my hand on a small book-cover, I at once know 
something of its shape and size, and the distance of one 
angle from the other, because I am able to estimate the 
" spread " or extensity of the touch, also to distinguish 
the touch at one part of the hand from that at another. 
Further, the local discrimination takes part when we 
touch a rough surface, as that of sandpaper, distinguish- 
ing the little projections. 

Finally, under touch there is commonly included the 
sense of temperature or the thevTrial sense. It is now 
known that this sensibility is connected with special 
nerve-structures distinct from those of the tactile sense 
proper, and not varying in the same way as this varies 
at different portions of the bodily surface. Hence we 
are justified in speaking of the thermal sense as a 
separate sense. It is further known that certain very 
small areas of the skin are specially sensitive to the con- 
tact of hot bodies and not to cold, others sensitive to 
cold and not to hot. At the same time, the sense of 
temperature works in close connection with touch proper. 
The child learns to know a metal and to distinguish it 
from wood by touching it, and so finding out not merely 
its smoothness but also its coldness. 

Passive and Active Touch. So far we have con- 
sidered touch merely as a passive sense, i.e., as sensi- 
bility to the action of things on the tactile surface. But 
the fact that we speak of ourselves as touching things 
shows that it is an active sense as well. In touching 
an object we ourselves bring the organ into contact with 
it, and so secure an exercise of the sense. Such active 
or self-initiated touch is effected by means of certain 
muscles, more particularly those by which the arm is 



PASSIVE AND ACTIVE TOUCH. 117 

moved as a whole and in its several parts. This bring- 
ing into play of our voluntary muscles ^ is a matter of 
very great importance as enlarging the range of our 
experience and knowledge. 

The first and most obvious advantage of this addition 
of muscular activity is the multiplication of our tactile 
impressions. Just as the mobility of the insect's antennae 
enables it to gain many more impressions of touch than 
it would have if the organs were fixed, so the mobile 
arm, hand and fingers of the child greatly extend the 
range of his tactile experiences. By such movements he 
is able to bring one of the most sensitive parts of the 
organ (the tips of the fingers) into contact with a great 
number of objects, and, further, to gain impressions of 
this and that object in rapid succession, so as to dis- 
criminate them better one from the other. 

This widening and perfecting of passive impressions is 
however only one part of the gain resulting from the 
high degree of mobility of the hand. Another and no 
less important part is the new experience which accom- 
panies these movements, and which constitutes a distinct 
and very important source of knowledge. This expe- 
rience is supplied us by what is now commonly known 
as the onuscidar sense. 

Muscular Sense. This expression marks off* the 
sense-material which comes to us immediately in con- 
nection with our (voluntary) muscular activity. It has 
to be distinguished from the indirect results of this 
activity, such as the sensation of contact resulting on a 

1 " Voluntary " muscles are those which can be controlled by our 
volitions, as those of our limbs ; " involuntary," those which cannot be 
so controlled, as those of the heart. 



118 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS : SENSATIONS, ETC. 

movement of the arm towards an object, or the sensation 
of sound following the action of the vocal muscles. The 
experience, common in drill exercises, of reaching for- 
ward with the upper part of the body and thrusting the 
right arm outward as far as possible is a good illustration 
of muscular sensations. These sensations, like the pa£- 
sive ones, have certain presentative characters of their 
own. They constitute active states in a peculiar and 
pre-eminent sense. In singing, in moving the arm or 
leg, in pushing a heavy body, we have a sense of 
bodily activity, or of exerting muscular energy. 

The muscular sense is important both as a source of 
pleasure and as a means of knowledge. The child de- 
lights to exercise his muscles, to realise his bodily power. 
Certain modes of muscular exercise, such as rapid rhyth- 
mical movements, are known to be exhilarating, while 
others, such as slow rocking movements, are soothing. It 
is, however, chiefly as a source of knowledge that we 
shall now regard this sense. 

The sensations which accompany muscular action may 
be conveniently divided into two main varieties. The 
first are {a) sensations of movement or motor sensations. 
They are illustrated in the experience of moving an arm 
or a leg in empty space. The second are best des- 
cribed as (6) sensations of strain or of resistance. They 
occur where the impulse to move a limb or the whole 
body is obstructed or impeded. They are exemplified in 
the experience (other than that of the tactile sensations 
of pressure themselves) which accompanies the act of 
pushing against a heavy object, or lifting a consider- 
able weight with the hand, and which w^ould be commonly 
described as a sense of strain. 



THE MUSCULAE SENSE. 119 

(a) Sensations of movement present two well-marked 
differences of quality. (1) In the first place, they vary 
in character according to the direction of the moveinent 
Thus the sense-material given in bending the right arm 
is qualitatively different from that given in straightening 
it. And it is this difference in the motor sensations 
which enables us to ascertain what is the particular 
direction of any movement which we are executing. 
(2) In the second place, these sensations vary in charac- 
ter according to the velocity of the movement. The 
experience of bending the right arm quickly differs 
from that of bending it slowly. And we are able to 
distinguish many degrees in the velocity of our move- 
ments. 

(h) The sensations of strain, as when we push with the 
shoulder or arms against a heavy body, drag it after us, 
or lift it, have a distinct character of their own. They 
exhibit, like those of movement, many distinctions of in- 
tensity. We experience different sensations in lifting a 
pound and a pound and a half. 

Each of these modes of muscular experience constitutes 
an important auxiliary source of knowledge in connec- 
' tion with touch. Indeed, our information respecting the 
most fundamental properties of material things would be 
very vague and rudimentary but for the addition of the 
muscular sense. 

In the first place, it is the sensations of strain which 
give the child an immediate knowledge of the most funda- 
mental and characteristic property of material bodies, 
viz., what is known as resistance, under its various modes, 
as hardness, density, rigidity. The sense of pressure 
gained by way of an immobile organ, say a paralysed 



120 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS : SENSATIONS, ETC. 

limb, could never in itself supply any distinct knowledo-e 
of this property. It is only when we muscularly react 
on things, and find them resisting our efforts, that we 
come to know them as material realities. Our common 
way of estimating the degree of hardness or density of 
a substance is by the aid of muscular discrimination. 
Further, the discrimination of weiglit, though this is 
possible to a certain extent by way of passive touch, is 
much more accurate when the muscular sense is called 
in to help. If a person wants to estimate a weight 
nicely, as in ascertaining the weight of a letter when no 
scales are at hand, he lifts it and judges of the weight 
by means of the intensity of the muscular sensations in- 
volved. 

In the second place, it is by help of our motor sensa- 
tions that each of us acquires a knowledge of the ex- 
tendedness of things, of the relative position of points, 
and of the shape and size of objects. The rudimentary 
and vague knowledge which might be obtainable by 
means of the local discrimination of the skin needs to be 
rendered distinct and exact by means of varied and re- 
peated movement. Thus, both the shape and the size of 
a small object, as a ring or cross, are made much clearer 
to us when we pass the finger-tip along or round it, and 
so judge of its form and dimensions by the direction and 
length of the movements carried out, than when it is 
laid on our passive hand. The blind habitually examine 
the form of an object by the aid of movement. 

Hearing. The Sense of Hearing ranks high both as 
a source of pleasure and as an intellectual or knowledge- 
giving sense. The sensations which form the material of 
music, those of pitch, together with their combinations in 



SENSE OF HEARING. 121 

rhythmic melody or tune, are among the most agreeable 
of our sense-experiences. But the refined pleasures of 
music presuppose the discrimination of the several 
tones. The intellectual value of hearing is due to the 
high degree of denniteness of its distinguishable sensa- 
tions. 

To begin with, this sense gives us an extensive scale 
of intensity of sensation. A trained ear can detect many 
tine distinctions of loud and soft in musical sounds. 

The intellectual character of hearing shows itself still 
more conspicuously in the qualitative differences among 
sensations of sound. We have here, to begin with, the 
broad contrast between musical and non-musical sounds 
or noises. The former depend on regularly recurring or 
periodic vibrations of the air, the latter on irregularly 
recurring or non-periodic vibrations. In the case of 
musical sounds we have the remarkable phenomenon of 
a scale of quality. In passing from a low note to a 
higher one we experience a continuous variation of sensa- 
tion which is known as that of 'pitch. These differences 
of pitch answer to changes in the rate of vibration of 
the atmospheric medium ; the higher the note the more 
rapid are the vibrations. Our musical scale is made up 
of discrete tones, separated one from another by per- 
ceptible intervals of pitch. 

Along with this scale of pitch- quality, there are the 
differences known as timbre.^ These are the qualitative 
differences in sensations of tone answering to differences 
in the instrument, such as the piano, the violin, the 
human voice. 

^ This is sometimes called " musical quality" ; but the French name 
is better. The Germans use the word " clang tint " (Klangfarbe). 



122 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS : SENSATIONS, ETC. 

In addition to this wide range of musical sensation, 
the ear is capable of distinguishing a great variety of 
non-musical sounds or noises, as for example the roar 
of the sea, the rustling of leaves, the crack of a whip. 
We distinguish noises as jarring, grating, explosive, and 
so on. It is this side of hearing which is of especial 
value for the knowledge of external things. A child 
learns to recognise objects by the characteristic sounds 
which they produce, such as those of wood and stone 
when struck, of running water, of a trotting horse. 

Finally, there are what are known as articulate sounds, 
those which constitute the elements of speech. These 
diifer from one another partly in point of musical 
quality ; thus it has been recently ascertained that the 
differences between the several vowel sounds are analogous 
to those between the tones of the several musical instru- 
ments. On the other hand, the differences of consonantal 
sounds are non-musical in character ; in the ordinary 
classification of these into the gutturals, sibilants, and so 
forth, we find differences analogous to those among noises. 
Enough has been said to illustrate the high degree of 
refinement which characterises the sense of hearing. The 
delicate and far-reaching discrimination of quality, aided 
by the fine discrimination of intensity, enables the ear to 
acquire a good deal of exact information, as well as to 
gain a considerable amount of refined pleasure. The 
delight of music sums up the chief part of the latter. 
The former is illustrated in that wide range of know- 
ledge which we all acquire by way of our system of 
articulate sounds, or language. 

As a set-off against these advantages, we see that 
hearing has very little local discrimination. We cannot 



HEAEING AND SIGHT. 123 

distinguish two simultaneous sounds with any nicety 
according to the locality of their external source, as we 
can distinguish two touches. Nor is the organ of hear- 
ing endowed with mobility, as is the hand. Hence 
hearing gives us no direct knowledge of the most im- 
portant properties of objects, their size and shape. 

Sight. The sense of Sight is by common consent 
allowed the first place in the scale of refinement. This 
pre-eminence is suggested by the delicate and intricate 
structure of the organ, and the subtle nature of the 
stimulus (ether-vibrations). The eye surpasses all other 
sense-organs both in the range and in the delicacy of its 
impressions. These are at once the source of some of the 
purest and the most refined enjoyment, the pleasures of 
light, colour and visible form, and of some of the most 
valuable portions of our knowledge. 

In the first place, the eye is highly discriminative of 
intensity. It supplies us with a wide range of luminous 
impressions, from those of the brightest objects we can 
bear to look at to those of the darkest which we are 
just able to make out. The fineness of this discrimina- 
tion of intensity is of the greatest importance to us in 
the visual discernment of objects. 

In sight, again, w^e have numerous and fine differences 
of quality. Of these the most important are colour- 
differences. The impressions of colour, like those of 
pitch, fall into a series of gradual changes. Passing 
from one extremity of the spectrum (or rainbow) to 
another the eye experiences a series of perfectly gradual 
transitions. These changes fall into the series, violet, 
blue, green, yellow, orange and red, together with certain 
finer distinctions, as indigo blue, and greenish blue. It 



124 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS : SENSATIONS, ETC. 

is known that differences of quality depend (as in the 
case of pitch-sensations) on changes in the rapidity of 
the vibrations of the stimulus, viz., the rays of light. 
The rays at the violet end have more rapid vibrations 
than those at the red end. These colour-impressions, 
while they supply an important element of aesthetic 
pleasure, are also of great intellectual importance. The 
child learns to know objects, such as his mother, his toys, 
flowers and so forth, partly by means of their colours. 

In addition to these differences of intensity and quality 
in the sensations of sight we have in the case of this 
sense, as in that of touch, two endowments which furnish 
the basis of a perception of space-relations, including 
the form and the magnitude of objects. The first of 
these is the local distinctness of the visual impressions 
answering to the stimulation of different points of the ret- 
ina. Owing to this endowment we can distinguish two 
points of light, say two stars, even when they lie very 
near one another. This local discrimination is finest in 
the central region of the retina known as the yellow spot, 
which is the area of perfect vision. It is just because we 
are able to keep the impressions corresponding to distinct 
retinal points clearly distinct from one another that we 
are in a position to distinguish at a glance a number of 
details of form, such as the several letters of a word, 
and even the several parts of a letter. 

Valuable, however, as is this capability of discrimi- 
nating points, it needs to be supplemented by the 
muscular activity of the eye. The organ of sight is 
supplied with a system of muscles by means of which it 
is able to carry out a large variety of delicate and pre- 
cise movements. Sight is thus, like touch, an active 



PREEOQATIVES OF SIGHT. 125 

sense. One result of this activity, as in the case of 
touch, is to allow of the most sensitive parts of the 
organ being brought to bear on the particular object or 
portion of an object which we wish to examine. In fixing 
the eye on a particular point in the field of vision, say a 
certain star, we are obtaining a retinal image of it on the 
area of perfect vision. Another result of this activity is 
that in the act of moving the eye from point to point of 
the field we bring the muscular sense into play and thus 
gain a much clearer impression of the relative position of 
the several objects in the field, and of the form and the 
magnitude of these objects. It is by tracing the path of 
a line with the eye that we can best appreciate its per- 
fect straightness, or the exact degree of its curvature. 
In early life, more particularly, this is the customary 
mode of acquiring knov/ledge of form. 

Another muscular endowment of the eye needs to be 
noted. When we fix the organ on an object at a par- 
ticular distance, special muscular actions have to be 
carried out to enable us to see this object clearly. First 
of all, in looking at a near object, the eye has to carry 
out a process of accovimodation, the lens being made to 
bulge out more in front so that the " optical image " may 
fall exactly on the retina. The muscular sensations 
which accompany this adjustment of the eye for any 
particular distance are one means by which we come to 
know that the object looked at is situated at this dis- 
tance. Secondly, it is necessary, in order that we may 
see clearly when we use both eyes, that the image of an 
object should fall on the yellow spot in each of the two ret- 
inas : hence we involuntarily make the " axes of vision " ^ 

^ The axis of vision is an imaginary line drawn from the point of the 
object specially " fixed " through the eye-ball to the yellow spot. 



126 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS : SENSATIONS, ETC. 

converge more when looking at an object near us than 
when looking at one farther off. The peculiar muscular 
sensations accompanying the several degrees of con- 
vergence, and known as. sensations of convergence, serve 
as a much more exact means of knowledge than those 
of accommodation, respecting the distance of an object 
that we are looking at. 

(B) AFFECTIVE ELEMENTS. 

In close connection with the elements of sensation just 
reviewed there are given at the outset, and as the conse- 
quence of the congenital formation of a child's nervous 
system, certain simple modes of feeling (pleasure and 
pain). Thus in the case of the organic sensations arising 
from changes in the organs of digestion, etc., there are 
well-marked feeling-accompaniments. The discomforts 
of hunger and thirst, of impeded digestion, of bodily 
cold, are examples of such organic feelings. The sensa- 
tions of the special senses, too, have their feeling-tone. 
The contact of rough and smooth in the region of touch 
is in part a difference of feeling-tone, roughness being 
disagreeable, smoothness agreeable. These sense-feelings 
will be considered more fully later on when we take up 
the development of the life of feeling. 

(C) CONATIVE ELEMENTS: PRIMITIVE MOVEMENTS. 

Just as there are certain predetermined elements of 
the intellectual and affective life, so there are certain 
simple active phenomena which appear at an early date, 
and are known to be the result of congenital nervous 
arrangements. Every observer of an infant knows that 
in the first weeks it is not only the subject of sensations 



OTHER MENTAL ELEMENTS. 127 

and feelings of pleasure and pain, but reacts upon these 
sensations and fe slings by way of muscular move- 
ments. Some of these movements carried out by the 
so-called non -voluntary muscles do not affect the con- 
scious life. Such are the movements which subserve the 
vital processes, those of the heart and blood-vessels, of 
the digestive organs, and so forth. On the other hand, 
there are certain movements, involving the " voluntary 
muscles," which are not merely physiological but also 
psychical processes. The aimless movements of a 
child's limbs during the first weeks give rise to certain 
motor sensations, and so affect its consciousness. Hence 
they contribute true psychical elements just like the 
stimulation of the sense-organs. All these " primitive 
movements," as they are called, are " non-voluntary," 
that is to say, they are wanting in the presence of a 
conscious representation of some end, or, as we may call 
it, a "psychical purpose} At the same time they are 
conative phenomena partly because they involve, to some 
extent at least, the element of active impulse, and because 
by supplying the child with the first experience of his 
own powers of movement and what results from their 
exercise they form an essential step in the development 
of voluntary action, properly so called. 

Of these primitive motor phenomena the first deserving 
notice are known as Reflex Movements. They are move- 
ments which are excited by the stimulation of a sensory 

^ Actions may be "purposive" in a biological sense, that is, may- 
conduce to the good of the organism, without being determined by a 
conscious or psychical purpose. The instinctive action of a hen in incu- 
bation subserves Nature's purpose, the preservation of the species, but 
the hen does not knov^^ingly aim at this purpose. 



128 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS : SENSATIONS, ETC. 

nerve ; the incoming sensory process passing over into an 
outgoing motor process, and so being bent back or " re- 
flected ". Swallowing an object when it reaches the back 
of the mouth is a reflex movement : contact of the food 
with the membrane covering this region stimulates the 
sensory nerves terminating there, and so calls forth the 
reflex muscular action. Another example is the action 
of closing the fingers around a small object, such as the 
nurse's finger, when this is placed on the palm of the 
hand, an action wdiich can be called forth soon after 
birth. Other reflexes, such as blinking when an object 
is suddenly brought near the eyes, occur later. Reflex 
movements follow so rapidly upon the sensory stimula- 
tion that the sensation corresponding to this stimulation 
is not fully developed. In starting at an unexpected 
sound we hardly hear the sound before we start. The 
movements affect consciousness, however, when they are 
carried out. 

Next to these in the order of importance are Instinct- 
ive Movements. The word Instinctive is applied to 
a movement of a certain complexity, which, while it 
bears a certain resemblance to a voluntary movement, 
is not acquired by the individual, but is the outcome of 
congenital arrangements. The instinctive actions of 
animals, such as the nest-building and incubation of birds, 
are familiar examples. Instinctive movements differ 
from reflex, partly in their complexity, i.e., the number 
of distinct muscular actions entering into them, and still 
more clearly in their conscious accompaniment. A bird, 
when the migratory instinct takes it, is the subject of 
sensations with a well-marked feeling-tone, viz.y that of 
discomfort, and a restless craving. While subserving a bio- 



EAELY MOVEMENTS. 129 

logical purpose, such as self-preservation or conservation 
of the species, they have no psychical purpose. Man, 
having to acquire by individual experience knowledge 
how to act, is far less fully supplied with instinctive move- 
ments than the lower animals. Nevertheless, the child pos- 
sesses a certain number. Some of these, as the action of 
sucking, are necessary for the maintenance of the child's 
life, and so are perfect, or nearly so, at the outset. Others 
are very early developed. This applies to the special 
motor reactions which spring immediately out of states 
of pleasure and pain, as crying and laughing. Others, 
again, as the movements of walking, appear still later. 

Some physiologists and psychologists include a third 
class of primitive movements, viz., Impulsive or Spon- 
taneous movements. They are illustrated by movements 
of the limbs during sleep or immediately after waking. 
They are supposed to have no antecedent in the shape of 
sensory stimulation, like Reflex and Instinctive move- 
ments, but to arise solely out of certain changes of 
nutrition in the motor centres. ' They can only affect 
consciousness throup^h the medium of the motor sensa- 
tions which accompany them. 

In addition to these primitive movements, there are 
certain congenitally determined connections between 
movements. Thus the alternate forward movement of 
each of the two lower limbs which enters into walking is 
predetermined by congenital nervous arrangements. A 
child long before it can walk, if held in the nurse's arms 
so that it can just touch her lap with its feet, will carry 
out this rhythmic sequence of movements. 

Development of the Senses. The several elements 
here enumerated, though congenitally predetermined, do 
10 



130 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS: SENSATIONS, ETC. 

not all appear in perfect form at the beginning of life. 
This applies not only, as we have seen, to certain un- 
acquired movements, but also to the sensations obtained 
by stimulation of the sense-organs. In other words, 
the senses require a certain time for the development of 
their proper functions. 

What is commonly spoken of as the development of 
the senses includes the exercise of the mind in attending 
to sense-impressions and rendering them definite and dis- 
tinct one from another. With this we are not now con- 
cerned, but only with the development of the sense- 
apparatus itself. This development is illustrated in the 
fact that children are born deaf, and may even remain 
so for a day or two, only gradually developing after 
this a complete normal sense of hearing. 

While the sensory apparatus thus requires a certain 
time for its development, the motor organs require a 
longer period. This is particularly evident in the case 
of the organs of locomotion, which only reach the de- 
velopment needed for carrying out their functions about 
the end of the first year. Other movements, as those of 
the hand and arm in grasping, and of the head and eyes 
in following a moving object, and turning towards one, 
require a term of tentative practice before they get 
carried out in the required way. This need of a term 
of apprenticeship for carrying out movements with pre- 
cision is one cause of the slow development of the senses. 
Even a " quick ear " depends in part on readiness in 
carrying out movements of the head. 

Differences of Sense-Capacity and Motor Ability. 
By sense-capacity is meant the degree of natural endow- 
ment of a sense which determines and limits the range of 



DIFFEEENCES OF SENSE-CAPACITY. 131 

possible improvement by exercise and training. Differ- 
ences of sense-capacity appear among what are called 
normal children, (a) In the first place, there are differ- 
ences in the keenness of a sense, as determined by the 
weakest stimulus which will just produce a sensation.^ It 
is found that in all persons alike certain areas of the skin 
require a greater pressure than others before they yield a 
sensation, and so have less keenness of sensibility. In 
like manner one child may require a more powerful 
stimulus of sound than another child before he has a sen- 
sation of hearing. 

(b) Of greater importance than this responsiveness to 
weak stimuli is the discriminative sensibility already 
touched on. This determines the degree of fineness of 
the sense. Different children cannot, with a like amount 
of exercise, be made to discriminate the same number of 
shades of a colour, or of gradations of pitch in a semi- 
tone interval. This is the really important side of sense- 
capacity from an intellectual or knowledge-giving point 
of view. It does not vary precisely as keenness, A 
may be more quickly responsive to a stimulus than B, 
and yet not be more discriminative.^ 

These differences sometimes appear in a particular 
sense only. Thus there are children who are dull or 
obtuse, or both, in respect of hearing, though they may 
be quick and discriminative in respect of seeing. Such 
defects clearly point to a special deficiency in the par- 

1 Wundt calls this mode of sensibility "absolute sensibility," mark- 
ing it off from " discriminative sensibility ". 

2 What we call acuteness of a sense probably involves both quickness 
or keenness and fineness. An acute ear is one which reacts on weak 
stimuli, and also discriminates finely one sound from another. 



132 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS: SENSATIONS, ETC. 

ticular organ concerned. In other cases the clulness and 
obtuseness may be more general, and point rather to a 
low brain-development and want of nervous energy. 

It is important to add that children vary greatly in the 
first months in respect of the liveliness and precision of 
their "motor reactions. It is a familiar observation that 
some children react more promptly to sensory stimula- 
tion, and give fuller motor expression to their feelings, 
than others. These differences aifect the rapidity of the 
development of the senses. Thus some learn to move 
their eyes (or head) and hands much quicker than others, 
and in this way come much sooner to the full exercise of 
these organs. Careful observations on these early move- 
ments and their variations are much needed. 

The Early Care of the Senses. Since the senses, 
together with the motor organs which are so closely 
connected with them, supply the nutritive material for 
the whole mental life of the child, the observation of 
their activities and the care for their efficiency in the 
first years of life are a matter of great educational im- 
portance. The closest attention should be given by the 
mother and the teacher to the senses, more particularly 
those of sight and hearing, which, owing to the special 
delicacy of their peripheral organs, are liable to be 
deranged by a variety of causes. 

Here the first thing is to exclude from the surroundings 
anything, such as a bad mode of illumination or a defective 
print in books, which is likely to injure the eye. A like 
care should be given to the organs of movement, over- 
strain of the muscles of the eye and the hand — more 
especially the small muscles of the fingers — being care- 
fully avoided. 



CARE OF THE SENSES. 133 

Not only should positive injury to the organs of sense 
and movement be thus guarded against : the teacher 
should carefully adjust all sense-work to the conditions 
of favourable and easy activity. Here the importance 
of magnitude and scale in showing visible objects, such 
as letters to be copied, geometrical figures and the like, 
becomes apparent. A child is apt to be called stupid be- 
cause the object he is asked to inspect with his eyes is 
unfavourable to a clear visual dissection of it, and to that 
more vivid sense of line which grows out of movement 
along the line. 

With this general care there should go a careful 
measurement of the several sense-capacities. In par- 
ticular any latent defects of discriminative sensibility 
should be discovered and noted down. The methodical 
procedure which has recently been invented by science 
for measuring sense-capacity will be explained presently 
when we come to deal more fully with the discriminative 
process. Here it may suffice to say that an important 
part of the educator's work is to measure sense-capacity, 
more especially that of the two higher senses, and to ob- 
serve carefully any indications of marked defect, such as 
note or tone deafness, that is, inability to recognise an 
ordinary musical interval, say that of a semitone, or of 
colour blindness, that is, inability to discriminate colours. 

KEFERENCES FOR READING. 

A fuller account of the Senses may be obtained from the following : 
John McKendrick, The Physiology of the Senses (John Murray), E. B. 
Titchener, An Outline of Psychology, part i., chaps, ii.-iv. (Mac- 
millan). 

The early development of the Senses is dealt with by W. Preyer, 



134 PSYCHICAL ELEMENTS : SENSATIONS, ETC. 

The Senses and the Will, first part, chaps, i.-v., and second part, 
chaps, viii.-xi. (Appleton & Co.), and by G. Compayre, The Intellect- 
ual and Moral Development of the Child, chaps, ii.-iv. (Appleton 
& Co.). 

[References to works on the Education of the Senses will follow 
more appropriately the discussion of Sense perception.] 



CHAPTER VII. 

mental elaboration : attention. 

Psychical Materials and their Elaboration. 
Having briefly surveyed the field of sensation which sup- 
plies the raw material on which our intellectual life sus- 
tains itself, we may proceed to consider the processes by 
which this material is worked up or elaborated into the 
later products, such as perceptions and ideas ; our object 
will be to find out the simplest processes by the co-opera- 
tion of which the movement of intellectual development 
can be understood. 

Attention as a Factor in Elaboration. The first 
and simplest phase of the process of elaboration is that 
reaction which serves to make a sensation a prominent 
and for the moment a supreme element in the stream of 
consciousness. This reaction is known as Attention. 

Now attention is a phenomenon of the active phase of 
mind, and as such can only be adequately studied later 
on when we take up the subject of conation. At the 
same time, seeing that it is present in a lower form at 
least in all the fully developed processes of our intel- 
lectual life, we must make a preliminary study of it at 
the outset. Here, however, we shall be concerned with 
the process mainly as a deteriinining factor. The under- 
standing of it as itself determined, more particularly by 



186 MENTAL ELABORATION I ATTENTION. 

feeling and conation, will only be possible after a study 
of these two domains of phenomena. 

Grades of Consciousness : the Sub-conscious. In 
taking up the subject of attention we are confronted 
with a fact hitherto ignored, viz., that psychical 'pheno- 
mena present thonselves in unequal degrees of definite- 
ness and prominence. Thus a sound may affect our 
consciousness only feebly and vaguely, as when we are 
sleepy, or our attention is occupied with other things • 
or it may grow distinct and " stand out " in our con- 
sciousness, as when we are interested in knowing^ what 
it is. This fact must now be set forth and illustrated. 

Our mental life consists of different levels or heio^hts, 
according to the degree of consciousness involved. The 
lowest level is that of indistinct consciousness. This in- 
cludes that confused mass of sensation, thought, impulse 
and feelino^ which forms the dim backoTound of our clear 
mental life. At any moment we may by a special effort 
of attention become aware of the presence of such vague 
elements as bodily sensations, more or less agreeable or 
disagreeable, half-developed recollections, obscure and 
undefinable feelings, confidence, alarm, and so forth. This 
dim twilight region of our mental life maybe marked off 
as that of the Sub-conscious. 

It is evident that those parts of our mental life are of most import- 
ance which are capable of being brought to the level of clear conscious- 
ness. Speaking generally, we may say that the bodily life, more particu- 
larly the vegetative processes of assimilation of food, circulation of the 
blood, etc., yields only a vague kind of consciousness. Although, as we 
shall see, the state of the vital organs exerts a profound and far-reach- 
ing influence on our mental life, it does not give rise immediately to 
definite sensations. The region of clear consciousness consists of the 
sensations of the special senses, which, as we have seen, are fitted tc 



GEADES OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 137 

acquire definiteness of character, and along with these the voluntary 
movements by which we react on our sensations, and, lastly, the pro- 
cesses of thought, deliberation and choice which accompany these 
movements. We may say, then, that the sub-conscious is the region 
of vague sensation and blind unreflective impulse or " instinct," which 
we have reason to suppose makes up the mental life of the lower 
animals. The higher level of clear consciousness answers rather to 
the distinctively human aspects of our mental life, to thought, reason 
and choice. 

It follows from this account of the sub-conscious that 
what we call the development of our mental life means a 
gradual emergence of clear consciousness out of the dim 
region of the sub-conscious. In infancy we have to do with 
a sub-conscious type of life : development and education 
serve to introduce more and more of clear consciousness. 

General Function of Attention. Since attention 
is the process by which obscure half -formed products of 
our consciousness take on clearness and completeness, it 
must, it is evident, play an important part in the economy 
of our mental life. It serves to bring about an orderly 
arrangement and a simplification of this life. At any 
moment of full wakefulness we are assailed by a multitude 
of sensations, some due to external objects acting on our 
senses of hearing, sight, and so forth, others arising out 
of changes in the organism, as those of heat, cold, hunger, 
etc. The process of attention is selective, and helps to 
give a hearing at the moment to some one of the crowd 
of soliciting applicants. In this way the successive 
movements of attention, so far as they enter into our 
psychical processes, tend to reduce the multiplicity and 
confusion which present themselves to a single orderly 
thread of events which we can afterwards more or less 
completely retrace. 



138 MENTAL ELABORATION : ATTENTION. 

While, however, we thus at the outset assign so unique 
a place and so prominent a function to attention, it must 
be borne in mind that in all its more energetic degrees it 
is but an occasional ingredient of our mental life. Not 
only does the region of organic life but rarely become 
the object of such close attention ; the higher plane of 
conscious life itself, including sensation, voluntary move- 
ment, and the intellectual processes, such as perception 
and memory, involves less and less of the concentrative 
element as these processes recur and grow fa'iniliar and 
rapid. In this case, as was pointed out above, the ner- 
vous mechanism, with which every part of our mental 
life is correlated, gets adjusted to a new kind of functional 
work. 

We may say, then, that attention is an extra output 
of mental activity which is especially required for all 
advance, and particularly for acquiring new aptitudes. 
Thus a child has to attend closely when first learning to 
w^alk, though when the action is perfected by practice 
he need hardly attend at all to what he is doing. So 
with perceptions and ideas. W^e can recognise objects of 
daily use, as our hat, or our pen, by a rapid, barely con- 
scious glance ; but in recognising less familiar objects 
w^e have to attend closely. We mentally run over a 
train of ideas which we have at our fingers' ends, as we 
say, with the least amount of attention ; in mentally 
getting hold of a new order of ideas, as in reading a 
work of science, or the more difficult sort of modern 
novel, we have to put forth a special effort of attention. 
It follows that on the amount of attention a child is 
ready to give will depend the rate of his advance in 
knowledge and in the use of his active powers, Attcn- 



FUNCTION OF ATTENTION. 139 

tion is the supreme manifestation of vital energy, of 
brain-vigour, and its abundance or deficiency affects the 
whole of a child's mental progress. No part of the 
mental mechanism is thus of more practical interest to 
the teacher than the processes of attention. The rise 
and fall in the freshness and vigour of attention demand 
the teacher's careful observation, as signs of fluctuating 
mental vigour ; and in stimulating and directing mental 
activity he will be primarily concerned with the con- 
ditions of a lively and prolonged attention. 

Definition of Attention. Attention may be defined 
as menta,l activity, which immediately results in the 
raising, in intensity, completeness, and definiteness, of 
certain sensations or other psychical phenomena, and a 
corresponding lowering of any other simultaneously pre- 
sented sensations, etc. Thus in attending to a par- 
ticular voice in a chorus I mentally raise this impression 
of sound to its full intensity, and render it distinct, and 
in so doing cause other sounds ta be comparatively faint 
and indistinct. 

It is implied in this definition that attention has its 
direction determined by a presentation, as for example, 
by the sight of a bird flying across the sky. Anything 
present to the mind when it thus becomes reinforced by 
attention is said to be the " object " of this attention. 

Objects of attention are either sensations, and their 
combinations, viz., complex presensations,^ or what we 
call ideas or representations, e.g., the mental image of 
a friend's face. In this preliminary account of attention 
we shall confine ourselves as far as possible to the earlier 

^ These correspond to what we call " external objects," which thus 
constitute only one variety of " objects of attention ". 



140 , MENTAL ELABORATION : ATTENTION. 

and " outer " direction of attention, viz., attention to 
sensations. The process of " inner " attention, or atten- 
tion to ideas, will be dealt with more fully hereafter. 

In its earliest and simplest form attention is to be con- 
ceived as a kind of reaction upon a sensation, already 
partially excited by the proper peripheral process of 
stimulation. Thus, in the above example, it is the whole 
process of excitation due to the movement of the image 
of the bird over the retina which arouses the mental atti- 
tude of looking at and so specially attending to this 
object. This attitude of looking obviously involves a 
muscular action, turning the eye in the required direc- 
tion, and so forth. This muscular side of the process of 
attention will occupy us presently. 

Again, our definition of attention implies that it is at 
once a reinforcing and a weakening of psychical contents. 
We cannot attend in one direction and so intensify a par- 
ticular presentative element without at the same moment 
withdrawing attention from other directions, that is to 
say, checking or inhibiting other simultaneous presenta- 
tions. To look closely at a thing is for the moment to 
be partially blind to surrounding objects, to see them 
at best only very indistinctly. Attention is thus essen- 
tially a narrowing or concentrating of consciousness, 
that is, a converging of mental light on the central or 
" focal " part of the field of vision, and a correlative dark- 
ening of all the " marginal " portion. 

Attention varies in its intensity or strength. We 
popularly talk of attending only where we put forth a 
specially high degree of exertion, and do so moreover by 
what is called a volitional effort. But the activity of 
attention reaches far below this occasional and excep- 



DEFINITION OF ATTENTION. 141 

tional effort. During waking hours at least there is 
always some amount of that mental exertion which we 
call attending. It follows that what teachers often call 
inattention does not mean total absence of attention, but 
a wrong direction of attention. A child may be sleepy 
or stupid and not attending to anything in particular, 
but more frequently children's inattention is mental 
energy diverted into wrong directions. 

The characteristics of the true state of inattention or 
mental listlessness are relaxation of effort and a substitu- 
tion, for a lively predominance of certain perceptions or 
ideas, of a dull level of vague sensations and thoughts. 
These features of inattention are brought out by the 
common expression "scattering" or "dispersion" of 
thoughts, and the corresponding French term distraction 
{cf. the German Zerstreuthcit). 

Nervous Process in Attention. The fact that 
attention is a mode of active consciousness suggests that 
it is accompanied by certain ,motor processes : and 
observation bears out this inference. Thus, to begin 
with the simplest mode of attention, viz., to sensa- 
tions, when we are looking at an object attentively, we 
are carrying out a number of motor adjustments — such as 
accommodation of the lens and alteration of convergence 
— which subserve perfect vision. Similarly in active 
touching, and even in listening, attention seems to stand 
in closest connection with certain motor adjustments of 
the particular sense-organ engaged. Such movements 
may accompany higher processes of attention, as when 
we screw our eyes up in order to think of something, just 
as if we were peering into space for the thought. 

Whilst attention is thus aided by certain definite move- 



142 MENTAL ELABOEATION : ATTENTION. 

ments, it requires the inhibition or exclusion of all other 
unrelated movements. Thus we have to keep the eyes 
and head steady when we wish to look carefully. In 
walking we are very apt to stop when thinking out some 
difficult question. Fidgety movements in children are 
a great bar to close attention . 

In addition to this motor or muscular factor, the 
physiological process in attention probably involves some 
change in the distribution of nervous energy in the 
brain whereby those regions which are especially en- 
gaged are thrown into a state of greater activity. Thus 
in looking at an object intently it is probable that the 
centre of vision is thrown into more energetic action, 
the other regions of the brain being inhibited or im- 
peded in their action.^ 

Extent or Area of Attention. All attention is a 
narrowing of the conscious field, and so may be described 
as a concentration of mental activity, or a focussing of it 
on a definite point. But all processes of attention do 
not embrace equal areas or extents. Just as in looking 
at a landscape we may fix the eye either on a small 
object, as a distant castle, or on a larger portion of the 
scene, as a chain of hills, so we may direct attention to a 
smaller or larger range of presentations. Thus I may 
attend to some particular localised sensation, say in my 
finger, or to the condition of my body as a whole. 

It is to be observed further that even when we single 
out for special attention some object in a group (or some 
particular feature of an object), the other objects of the 
group (or features of the object) may be indistinctly 

1 On the physiological accompaniments of attention, see Ribot, La 
Psycholoqie de V Attention, chaps, i. and ii. 



AKEA OF ATTENTION. 143 

apprehended in the margin or background of conscious- 
ness. Thus in looking at the Houses of Parliament there 
is along with the distinct presentation of the buildings 
themselves the indistinct presentations of the river and 
other surroundings. In other words, the selective act of 
attention does not wholly exchicle from the mind other 
imjpressions or ideas, hut throws them hack into the dim 
margin of consciousness, and that which lies in the 
focus of consciousness and is specially attended to may 
all the time he vaguely apprehended in its relations to 
its surroundings} The importance of this fact will 
come out when we take up the subject of perception. 

In general it may be said that the more objects we 
try to include in our mental glance the less distinct will 
be the result. This is seen plainly in all efforts to attend 
to a variety of disconnected things at one time, as when 
we are reading a book and listening to a conversation. 
" One thing at a time " is a universal law of our mental 
activity, and the carrying out of- distinct occupations is 
only possible where repetition and habit release us from 
the strain of close attention, as when we carry on " sub- 
consciously " some familiar manual operation, while our 
attention is really engaged in listening to another's talk. 

Where, however, we have to do with impressions of 
the same sense attention may embrace several of them at 
one moment. Thus it has been calculated that we can 
at one and the same instant attend to from four to five 
printed letters when placed near one another. This 
comprehensive grasp of a number of details in a single 

^ This fact that what we make " focal " by selective attention is dis- 
cerned in its relations to a dim marginal background is emphasised by 
Prof. Lloyd Morgan. See his Psychology for Teachers, p. 62 ff. 



144 MENTAL ELABORATION : ATTENTION. 

act of attention becomes of great importance in viewing 
things in their relations one to another, e.g., to the left 
and the right, above and below, and so forth. It lies at 
the basis of all perceptions of things as forming parts of 
a whole, as when we judge of symmetry, proportion, and 
the like. In the case of successive impressions, such as 
musical sounds, the same power of simultaneous grasp is 
seen in the perception of rhythmic relations. In this 
case the preceding impressions persist in consciousness 
side by side with the succeeding ones, and we hold them 
together by a single act of attention. 

On WHAT THE Degree of Attention Depends. The 
amount of attention exerted at any time depends on two 
chief circumstances : (a) the quantity of nervous energy 
disposable at the time ; (b) the force of the presentation 
which excites the attention, or, in case of competing pre- 
sentations, the superiority of the force of the presentation 
over that of rival presentations. 

It is a matter of common observation that when we 
are vigorous, wakeful and active a feeble stimulus will 
suffice to bring about attention. A healthy child in the 
early part of the day has a superabundance of brain 
energy which shows itself in attention to all sorts of 
small and comparatively uninteresting matters. Indeed 
his activity prompts him to seek out objects of attention 
in his surroundings. On the other hand, a tired or 
weakly child will need a powerful stimulus to rouse his 
mental activity. 

The attractive force of a presentation may reside in 
some inherent quality of this presentation, as when a 
sound becomes attended to by reason of its loudness ; or 
it may spring out of some relation of the presentation to 



VARIETIES OF ATTENTION. 145 

our pre-existing ideas, expectations, needs. The last 
illustrates what is commonly meant by interest. 

Non-voluntary and Voluntary Attention. It is 
customary to distinguish between two kinds of attention 
according as it is called forth by the mere force and 
attractivenes-ti of a presentation, or requires in addition a 
preceding desire and purpose to attend. The former is 
known as non-voluntary attention.^ It . may also be 
called reflex (or automatic) because it bears a striking 
analogy to reflex movement, such as blinking when an 
object is suddenly brought near the eye, which is clearly 
non-voluntary or unintentional, a merely mechanical 
response of the muscles to a process of sensory 
stimulation. On the other hand, when we attend 
to a thing from a desire, such as curiosity or a wish 
to know about it, we are said to do so voluntarily. 
These two modes of attention, though properly dis- 
tinguished one from another, are both our acts, and 
will be found to shade off one into the other in our 
mental life. 

NoN-VOLUNTARY OR ReFLEX ATTENTION. This is the 
earlier form of attention, and the one with which the 
young teacher is specially concerned in the first stages of 
instruction. Children are wont to put forth the activity 
of attention, not in order to gain some object, as know- 
ledge, but because what they see or hear attracts them 

1 Non-voluntary means merely absence of volition. What is called 
involuntary attention, as when we attend to a sound in spite of our 
resolve not to listen, is of course more than this, and must be carefully 
distinguished from it. The student should further note that non- 
voluntary does not mean the attention which a teacher may force from 
a child by a threat of punishment. This is, strictly speaking, volun- 
tary, since it is prompted by the desire to avoid something. 
11 



146 MENTAL ELABORATION : ATTENTION. 

in some way. Reflex attention always follows the lead 
of the greatest attraction of the moment. 

In its simplest form, as a momentary turning of the 
mind to a presentation, attention is a reaction called 
forth by a powerful sensory stimulus, such as a brilliant 
light, a loud sound, or a sharp blow. Every teacher 
knows the value of a strong emphatic mode of utterance 
in commanding the attention of his pupils ; and this 
effect is partly due to the action of strong sensuous im- 
pressions in rousing mental activity.^ 

Law OF Contrast and Novelty. This momentary 
direction of the attention is governed by the law of 
Change or Contrast. According to this principle, an 
unvarying sensuous stimulus, e. (7., a sound, if greatly pro- 
longed and unvaried in its intensity, fails to produce a 
conscious impression. The constant noise of the mill 
soon ceases to be noticed by the miller who lives near it ; 
whei-eas the cessation of the noise, as a great change in 
the environment, has been known to impress his con- 
sciousness even in sleep. The explanation of this is that 
a prolonged impression, even if a powerful one, ceases to 
excite the attention. Hence, the teacher who continually 
or very frequently addresses his class in loud tones, 
misses the advantage of an occasional raising of the voice. 

On the other hand, a sudden change of impression, as 
when a light is brought into a dark room, or the report 
of a gun breaks the stillness of the country, acts as a 
powerful excitant to the attention. For the same reason 
a strong contrast between impressions, as in the transition 
from high to low or from soft to loud in music, or in the 

^ Compare Herbart's " Involuntary Primitive Attention " (Felkin's 
Introduction, p. 38). 



NOVELTY AND INTEREST. 147 

juxtaposition of a bright and a dark colour, serves as an 
excitant. 

Novelty, so mighty a force in childhood and a con- 
siderable force throughout life, is only a further illustra- 
tion of this law of change. For something new attracts 
the attention because it is a change from, and contrasts 
with, our ordinary surroundings and experience. It ex- 
cites the mind, very much as a startling contrast excites it. 

The attractiveness of change is seen too where it is 
gradual, as in the case of all visible movements. The 
fascination of moving objects for the infant's eye is well 
known. A part of the danger, for the teacher, of the 
window looking into the street is that the street is the 
scene of perpetual movement. 

Interest. When it is said that we only attend to 
what interests us, there is a reference to the truth that 
attention is under the sway of feeling. A novel or un- 
expected sight may excite a germ of feeling in the shape 
of a momentary surprise or wonder. But when we are 
interested a deeper and more lasting feeling is excited, 
so that our attention is kept fixed for an appreciable 
time, ^his " interested attention," as it may be called, 
is of a higher kind than the momentary response to a 
powerful stimulus, as it is more the outcome of a child's 
self, of his inner nature, instincts, etc. It begins to 
appear very early in child -life. 

The feeling-element which here sustains and prolongs 
the attitude of attention maybe disagreeable or agreeable. 
Presentations which are unpleasant, such as the sight 
to a child of the preparations for punishment, exercise a 
peculiar spell on the mind which is sometimes described 
as " painful interest ". The healthier kind of interest, 



148 MENTAL ELABOEATION : ATTENTION. 

however, is awakened by agreeable presentations, which 
please at the moment, and which last long enough to 
give promise of further pleasure. 

Keeping to this more normal pleasurable interest, we 
may say that it arises in the following ways. (1) It 
may be excited when the object is in itself of such a 
kind as to give immediate pleasure to the child in the 
very act of attending to it. Thus an infant will keep 
its eyes fixed for a time on the lamp brought into the 
room because of the agreeableness of the impression. 
The production of pleasure in connection with any mode 
of activity tends, as we shall see by-and-by, to intensify 
and prolong this activity. This influence of the agree- 
able side of sense-impressions on the attention may be 
said to form the germ of ^Esthetic Interest. 

(2) Another great source of interest is the relation of 
the presentation of the moment to the child's past ex- 
periences and personal concerns. This relation means 
that the new impression is assimilated or " apperceived " 
by being brought into relation to a previous like im- 
pression or group of impressions having a marked feel- 
ing-tone. When, for example, a child listens to the 
sound of the water poured into his bath, of his mother's 
step as she enters the room, or later on to others' talk 
about himself, his interest is due to the fact that the 
new impression has acquired a meaning for his intelli- 
gence and a value for his feeling through its recognised 
kinship with his past pleasurable experiences. Such 
attention to new impressions because of their recognised 
connection with the child's comfort or happiness consti- 
tutes the germ of Personal or Practical Interest. This 
interest, again, may, with the grov/th of afiection and 



SOUECES OF INTEKEST. 149 

sympathy, expand into a hurryicn interest, i.e., an in- 
terest in others' well-being. 

(3) Lastly, interest may assume a more distinctly In- 
tellectual form, or an interest in new ideas, facts and 
truths. Here the process of assimilating, of under- 
standing the new and strange impression, itself contri- 
butes a pleasure, the germ of the delight in knowledge. 
It springs up in different ways. It arises most naturally 
out of a feeling of wonder at what is new, strange and 
mysterious, as when a child sees a strange visitor with 
some mysterious appendage, as an eye-glass. The new- 
ness and strangeness act as a stimulus to the attention. 
In this close quizzing of the new by the young eye, we 
have the germ of the impulse to assimilate what is 
strange, to bring the new and foreign object into re- 
lation to the old and familiar ones. In its higher forms 
this delight in mastering new strange-looking presenta- 
tions takes on more of a volitional character, becoming 
what we call curiosity or the desire to understand. 

It is to be observed that this Intellectual Interest is 
greatly supported at first by Esthetic and Personal In- 
terests, A child in beginning to notice things com- 
monly starts with something pretty, such as a flower 
or bird ; or with something associated with his comfort, 
the satisfaction of his wants, or his favourite occupations, 
as, for example, the whiteness of his milk, the colour of 
pussy's eyes. 

Familiarity and Interest. It follows from this that 
mere novelty, though a powerful stimulus to the atten- 
tion, and capable of leading on to curiosity, is not suffi- 
cient to detain and fix the attention. What is wholly 
strange and consequently unsuggestive to a child will 



150 MENTAL ELABORATION : ATTENTION. 

never engage and occupy his mind. In walking down a 
new street, for example, a child will as a rule notice those 
things which in some way remind him of, and connect 
themselves with, what he already knows and likes, e.g., 
if he is fond of horses and their doings, the harness in 
the saddler's shop. Miss Edgeworth tells us of the want 
of interest in the wholly unfamiliar and too strange 
London sights which was manifested by some Esquimaux 
who visited our capital {Practical Education, ii.,^. 118). 
While therefore the principle of change tells us that 
perfect familiarity with a subject is fatal to interest, the 
laws of intellectual interest tell us that a measure of 
familiarity is essential. The principle of modern in- 
tellectual education, that there should be a gradual 
transition from the known to the unknown, is thus seen 
to correspond not only with the necessities of intellectual 
movement and development, but also with the natural 
laws of development of those feelings which inspire 
attention and so call the intellectual faculties into play. 
Transition to Voluntary Attention. A little 
thought will show that each of these modes of action of 
feeling upon attention leads on to the beginning of vol- 
untary attention. Thus a child observing some pretty 
object soon begins to desire a continuance of the pleasure 
of watching it, and so attends, in a measure, voluntarily. 
This is especially true in the case of moving things, such 
as insects and other animals whose constant changes give 
rise to a vague expectation of what is coming. So 
again, in the case of personal interest, a child on listen- 
ing to talk about himself soon comes to expect some- 
thing agreeable, and listens in order to enjoy. The 
same thing is clearly true cf intellectual attention. 



EXPECTANT ATTENTION. 151 

Wonder, as we often say, passes into curiosity, and 
curiosity, as a desire to see something or understand 
something, involves a conative process, a simple volitional 
attitude. This is illustrated in the maintenance of the 
expectant attitude of mind by a class of children when 
the teacher is presenting interesting materials, for this 
expectancy is due to a vague anticipation of coming 
gratification and a desire to realise this. Here, then, we 
see how the earlier and lower form of attention gradually 
passes into the later and higher. 

Expectant Attention. The attitude of attention 
here touched upon is of the greatest educational import- 
ance. If attention were confined to presentations ^ 
already before the mind intellectual development would 
be but a rudimentary^ process. All the higher attention 
implies a lorocess of preadjustment to ivhat is about to 
he presented. 

This preadjustment may assume the form of preparing 
for a definitely known presentation. If, for example, a 
drill-master says beforehand to his class, " When I say 
' March ! ' begin to march at once," the children's minds 
are on tiptoe, so to speak, the brain -centres are active, 
carrying out in a measure beforehand the required ad- 
justive processes, so that when the order actually occurs 
it is carried out more quickly than if there had been no 
such warning and preparation. Experiments have shown 
that motor responses to a signal, e.g., pressing on the 
button of an electric key as soon as a sound-signal is 
perceived, are quickened, that is to say, the reaction- 
time is diminished, in proportion to the degree of perfec- 

^ The word presentation may here be taken to include ideas as well 
as sense presentations. 



152 MENTAL ELABORATION : ATTENTION. 

tion of the preliminary process (i.e., the closeness and fixity 
of the attention, and the precision of the anticipation). 

In this expectant attention there may be a definite an- 
ticipation of the coming presentation, as in the illustration 
of the drill-master. In this case the preparation in- 
volves a calling up of a definite idea of what is coming. 
A class of school children watching the clock, which is 
about to announce the close of the morning's school, im- 
aginatively realise beforehand the strokes of the clock. 
The attitude of expectant attention is different where 
there is not this definite anticipation, as when a child 
wonders what there is going to be on the dinner-table, or 
what the teacher is going to talk about. Here the pre- 
paration implies the preliminary activity of certain brain- 
centres and the connected sense-organs, as in " pricking 
up " the ear and fixing the eye. .,_ 

There is a measure of this same"^general preliminary 
activity of brain and mind in watching the actions of an 
animal or person, in listening to a story, and so forth. 

Function of the Will in Attention. It is im- 
possible at this stage to explain fully the nature of 
volitional attention. As a conative process it obeys 
those laws of volition which will be expounded later on- 
Here it must suffice to indicate briefly one or two more 
important effects of the growth of volition upon attention. 
(1) It is plain that after volition appears on the scene 
the forces of non- voluntary attention continue to be 
active as tendencies. And the range of the will's action 
is in every case limited by these. Thus the most 
studious of children finds that there is some force of 
external stimulus, as a disturbing noise, or an exciting 
spectacle, against which his will is impotent. 



FUNCTION OF WILL IN ATTENTION. 



153^ 



(2) Again, although after the required training a child 
learns to direct his attention at will, he has no power to 
keep his attention closely and persistently fixed on 
any presentations or ideas which he (or somebody else 
for him) may happen to select. Something further is 
necessary to that lively interaction between mind and 
object which we call a state of attention ; and this is in- 
terest. The will introduces, so to say, mind and object : 
it cannot force an attachment between them. For this, 
interest must be developed. What the initial volitional 
process effects is thus the direction of the interest that 
shall prevail at the time. 

It is important to note that after a certain strength 
of initial concentration, attention, provided interest is 
aroused, may take care of itself. The process hecorn.es 
similar to the earlier reflex type. That is to say, the 
object attended to, whether events in the physical world 
or ideas brought before the mind in reading or otherwise, 
holds and dominates the attention. In this way pro- 
longed processes of attention are greatly simplified by 
being freed from the accompaniment of volitional effort. 

The importance of this initial effort in a prolonged 
process of attention depends on the fact that -in many 
cases a lively interest is only developed after the mind 
and the subject-matter have remained in contact for 
some time. Many subjects do not disclose their attrac- 
tions at once and on the surface, but only after they 
have been more closely examined. Thus the pleasure of 
a beautiful poem or of an arithmetical problem only 
comes to the child who is ready to give his mind at 
first without the bait of pleasure. Hence a child who 
is ready to exercise his will at the outset under the in- 



154 MENTAL ELABOKATION : ATTENTION. 

fluencc of some motive not connected with the subject, 
as the desire to please his parents or teacher, makes 
acquaintance with new and unsuspected varieties of 
interest. The " finding one's way " in a new branch of 
study illustrates this gradual substitution of an agreeable 
activity for what at the outset was a comparatively dis- 
agreeable one, requiring an " eftbrt of attention ". 

EARLY DEVELOPMENT OF ATTENTION. 

Infantile Reactions. As has been observed, the 
early form of attention is the reflex or non-voluntary. 
An infant first manifests the rudiments of attention by 
a cessation of movements of the limbs, a wide open- 
ing of the eyes, etc., when some bright object, say a 
lamp or the mother's face, comes into its field of 
view. Moving visible objects more especially excite 
this early form of attention. The energies of atten- 
tion appear to be roused to a specially intense and 
prolonged activity by a strong feeling, as that sup- 
plied by the experience of sucking. It is by help of 
these early simple responses to sense-stimuli that 
the power of attention begins to grow. By this is 
meant that after a certain number of exercises less 
powerful stimuli suffice, in the absence of more powerful 
ones, to call forth attention. Thus by fixing the eye 
again and again on especially bright objects, such as the 
moving fire-flame or a candle, the infant is preparing to 
direct it (still non-voluntarily) to the mother's face, its 
own hands, and so forth, when these objects happen to 
come into the field of view. With the progress of the 
first weeks, too, many things at first indiflerent acquire 
a secondary kind of interest. Thus from gazing on tho 



BEGINNINGS OF ATTENTION. 155 

moving flame the child easily passes to a scrutiny of the 
glowing coal, and the fire-irons reflecting the light. In 
a similar way a child passes from sources of pleasure to 
the accompaniments of these. For example, he soon 
learns to attend to the visible movements and sounds 
which come to be associated with the pleasant experience 
of the meal and of the bath. As recurring experiences 
render the infant's surroundings familiar, we note the 
development of a special attention to what is new and 
strange, such as a new dress on the mother, a strange face, 
and so forth. Very early too, certainly Avithin the first 
months, we may note the influence on the attention of 
the formation of groups of ideas and permanent sources 
of interest, as, for example, pussy, the mother, favourite 
toys or pictures. These centres of interest increase in 
number and become more far-reaching in their influence 
as mental development advances. 

First Manifestations of Voluntary Attention. 
While the non- voluntary form of attention is thus ex- 
panding, following out new directions, we may observe 
the beginnings of a voluntary control of the attention. 
The first step in the direction of voluntary attention is 
seen in the early forms of expectant attention, as in 
continuing to gaze at an agreeable object, such as a 
brightly coloured toy or picture held before the eye, in 
following a moving object with the eye, and better still in 
looking down for an object, such as a toy, which has fallen 
on the floor. With these infantile actions may be com- 
pared the first turning of the head in the direction of a 
sound heard and listening, which appears to take place 
about the end of the third month. A clearer manifesta- 
tion of a simple voluntary direction of attention is seen 



156 MENTAL ELABOEATION : ATTENTION. 

ill tlic attitude of expecting or looking out for some- 
thino'. Within the first three or four months the infant 
begins to explore its surroundings, looking out for objects 
to inspect or examine. 

Professor Preyer gives an interesting account of the first move- 
monts of attention in his sketch of the development of sight and hear- 
ing (Tlic Mind of the Child, part i., chaps, i. and ii.). He thinks that 
his cliild began to explore the field of vision in search of objects before 
the cud of the third month. He puts the first appearance of volition, 
proper!}' so called, a month or two later. This suggests that the 
simple action here spoken of is a transition from the reflex to the 
voluntary form of attention. Others, as M. Perez, think they discover 
the germ of voluntary attention considerably earlier. (See Perez, The 
First Three Years of Childhood, p. 112.) 

By such simple exercises falling within the first few 
months, the activity of attention is little by little 
brought under control. Although the full under- 
standing of this" process must be delayed till we take 
up the subject of the growth of will, we may be able to 
anticipate to some extent, and indicate the main lines 
of the progress. 

The growth of voluntary attention implies, it is evi- 
dent, a continual reduction of the difficulty of attending 
to objects. The law that exercise strengthens faculty 
applies here. What is first done with labour and sense 
of difficulty is, with repetition and practice, done more 
and more easily. Thus an infant learns to direct its 
attention to visible objects by more rapid and precise 
movements of the eye and head. At the same time, as 
the result of such exercises, more difficult tasks become 
possible. Thus a child in the second half of the first 
year may be seen to embrace more objects in an act of 
attention, and to prolong the exertion of attention to 



GEOWTH OF ATTENTION. 157 

a series of events, such as musical sounds, a complicated 
action of the mother, and the like. 

Attention to the Unimpressive. Amonp- these new 
and more difficult attainments we have attention to 
what is small, inconspicuous and unimpressive. This 
extension of the range of attention is largely due to the 
growth of centres of interest which radiate, so to speak, 
their attractive influence on a larger and larger ar^a of 
objects. Thus pussy's hair, claws, and so forth grow 
interesting just because pussy herself has become inter- 
esting. Such an embracing of the less conspicuous and 
striking features of the environment is due too to .an 
advance in the carrying out of the process of attention, 
and to a firmer control of the process by the will. 
After having listened again and again to his mother's 
voice when she says something of great interest, the 
child tends to go on attending to her words when these 
are of less interest. When no strongly impressive ob- 
jects are present to the child's > senses, his impulse of 
activity will ensure a certain amount of attention to the 
less conspicuous and striking ones. 

Concentration of Mind. Another aspect under 
which the growth of voluntary attention may be viewed 
is the ability to detain objects before the mind. As we 
have seen, reflex attention is for the most part a process 
of flitting from point to point, as new objects of sense, 
and new solicitations present themselves. A more per- 
sistent and sustained attention begins to show itself under 
the spell of interest, as when a child watches an animal 
feeding or listens to a thrilling story. A firm fixing of 
the attention always involves, however, some amount of 
will-force or determination to attend. Locke does not 



158 MENTAL ELABORATION : ATTENTION. 

exaggerate when he says that it is " a pain to children to 
keep their thoughts steady to anything ". It is only as 
the attention comes under the control of the will, and as 
the will grows strong, that it takes on that dogged 
determined look which is what we mean by concentra- 
tion of mind. To attend to a thing ' ' voluntarily " in 
the full sense of this expression is resolutely to hold the 
mind to it. The peculiar value of all instruction in the 
home and in the school is that it requires a prolonged 
setting of the attention, which, though largely sustained 
by growing interest in the subject, is throughout 
reinforced so to speak by a firm determination of the 
will. 

This firm holding of the attention to a subject clearly 
implies the power and the disposition to resist the solici- 
tations of extraneous and distracting objects. A volun- 
tary concentration of mind means that we mentally hold 
on to a particular subject, and resolutely exclude all 
disconnected and irrelevant subjects. A child that is bent 
on examining some object will, in proportion as his mind 
becomes absorbed in the observation, become indifferent 
to other and distracting sights and sounds. It is evi- 
dent, too, that the beginnings of internal attention, of 
that fixing of ideas and following out of their suggestions 
on which all instruction is based, imply the develop- 
ment of this power of resistance. A child only learns to 
think in proportion as he learns to shut out the sights 
and sounds of the external world. The capability of 
resisting such distractions varies considerably, and is 
greatly improved by practice. A child when lirst sent 
to school linds it hard not to look at his companions 
or out of the window when a lesson is being given. 



CONCENTRATION OF MIND. 159 

By-and-by he will be able to fix his mind on his lesson 
even when some amount of disturbing noise is present. 

This power of concentration, that is to say, of pro- 
longed and dogged attention to the disregard of all dis- 
tracting solicitations, is a distinguishing characteristic of 
the energetic student and man of action. By common 
consent it is one main factor m all great achievements, 
whether in art, in science, or in practical affairs. Its 
high value illustrates the great part taken by the will in 
all intellectual development. Although dogged industry 
will not transform a stupid into a clever child, it is in- 
disputable that a boy or girl with average intellectual 
powers can, when these are backed up by a strong will, 
. attain to a very respectable height of achievement. 
J^ Habits of Attention. The growth of voluntary 
attention means the gradual formation of certain 
habits. By a habit we mean a fixed disposition to do a 
thing, and a facility in doing it, the result of a deter- 
mined and methodical repetition of the action. The 
growth of the power of attention may be viewed as a 
progressive formation of habits. At first voluntary con- 
centration of mind requires a spur and an eflfbrt. As 
soon as the pressure of a strong motive is withdrawn, 
the young mind returns to its natural state of listless- 
ness or wandering attention. A habit of attention first 
appears as a recurring readiness to attend under definite 
circumstances, for example, when the child is addressed 
by somebody, when the teacher enters the class-room and 
so forth. This is what Miss Edgeworth calls " a habit of 
associated attention ". Later on there is developed a more 
permanent kind of attentiveness. The transition from 
childhood to youth is in normal circumstances character- 



160 MENTAL ELABORATION : ATTENTION. 

ised by the acquisition of a more general attitude of men- 
tal watchfulness, showing itself in a growing thoughtful- 
ness about what is seen and heard. 

Variations in Children's Power of Attention. It 
has been implied in what has been said tliat the power 
of attention develops very unequally in different indi- 
vidual cases. With some the power as a ^vhole never 
seems to reach a high point : these are the children of 
sluggish attention, the " Saunterers," to use Locke's ex- 
pression, who form the teacher's crux. The power of 
attention, as measured by alacrity of adjustment, and by 
prolongation of effort without fatigue, is the index to 
mind-activity and to brain- vigour. Normal children 
with good brains have more of this power. Defective 
children, as shown by observations carried out on imbe- 
ciles, have less of it. Growth of mind and of brain- 
power shows itself most plainly and most directly in the 
increased quantity of attention. 

Again, owing to differences of congenital endowment, 
as well as of exercise, we find well-marked contrasts in 
the special direction in which development of attentive 
power advances. And these differences help to determine 
the type of individual intelligence. Everybody knows 
the difference, for example, between the plodding child 
able to concentrate his mind doggedly on a subject, but 
slow to transfer and adjust his attention to new matter, 
and the quick but rather superficial child — the " volatile 
genius," according to Miss Edgeworth, who finds it easy 
to direct his attention to new objects, though hard to 
keep it long fixed on any one. There are many 
young students who are capable of great intensity of 
concentration under favourable circumstances, but whose 



HOW children's attention varies. 161 

minds are easily overpowered by disturbing or distract- 
ing influences. 

Finally, the ruling habits of attention will vary accord- 
ing to the character of the predominant interests. Thus 
one child's predominant interest in the forms and colours 
of objects will show itself in a marked bent to visual 
attention, while another with a strong liking for sound 
will develop a special habit of aural attention. Again, 
while one child lives in his senses and so has his attention 
habitually directed outwards, another may be specially 
interested in the inner life of imagination and thought, 
and so develop a special habit of inward or " subjective " 
attention. 

Measukement of Attention. As already implied, attention has 
begun to be experimentally tested. Most, if not all, of the processes 
investigated by the experimental psychologist, such as reaction-time, 
the finest discrimination of tones, colours, etc., also the length of 
time required for memorising (for a short interval) a series of non- 
sense syllables or other material, involve attention ; and the measure- 
ment of this element becomes an important part of the investigation. 
In this way we are beginning to have some exact knowledge of the 
differences in power of attention at different ages and among children 
of the same age, of the effects of practice in improving the attention, 
and so forth. The researches carried out on mental fatigue already 
referred to (see p. 38) illustrate the measurement of another aspect of 
attention, viz., the variations in its quantity according as the brain is 
fresh and vigorous, or as prolonged exercise induces fatigue. One 
curious result of these researches has been to show that there are 
periodic oscillations in the energy and efficiency of attention, i.e., 
periods of vigorous concentration followed by "slack" periods. 

educational control of attention. 

The Process of Training a Child's Attention. 
When we speak of training the attention it is well to 
remember that strictly speaking there is no branch of 
12 



162 MENTAL ELABOKATION : ATTENTION. 

education which has to do specially and exclusively with 
the process of attention. To exercise a child's attention 
means in every case to arouse interest and curiosity, and 
to stimulate the mind as a whole. Nevertheless, a few 
remarks may be made even at this early stage of our 
exposition on the special relation of the teacher to the 
processes of attention. 

All intellectual guidance of the young mind implies 
that the educator has acquired a certain hold on the 
child's attention. Instruction may be said to begin 
when the mother secures the attention of the infant to 
an object by pointing her linger to it ; for in leading the 
movement of a child's eye by the simple gesture of 
pointing, she is able to exercise a certain selective 
control over the objects of his attention. Instruction, in 
the fuller sense, whether by the presentation of external 
objects for the child's inspection or by verbal information, 
clearly involves at every stage an appeal to the atten- 
tion, and depends for its success on the effectiveness of 
this appeal. It implies too the power of detaining a 
child's attention in a persistent effort. To know how to 
exercise the attention, how to call forth its full activity, 
is thus the first condition of success in education. A 
word or two must suffice by way of showing the bearings 
of our theory of attention on the methods of teaching. 

It is plain in the first place that the laws of attention 
must be complied with. He would be a foolish teacher 
who gave a child a number of disconnected things to do 
at the same time, or who insisted on keeping his mind 
directed to the same subject for a long period. Yet 
though these conditions are obvious enough, others are 
more easily overlooked. Thus it is probable that a more 



EARLY EDUCATION OF ATTENTION. 163 

exact knowledge of the effects of novelty of subject and 
mode of treatment, on the one hand, and of total un- 
familiarity on the other hand, would save teachers from 
many errors. Some of us can recall from our school days 
the wearisome effect of an oft-recurring stereotyped illus- 
tration, as well as the impression of repellent strangeness 
produced by a first, and too sudden, introduction to a 
perfectly new branch of study. The teacher cannot too 
often remind himself that a child's attention moves 
within the circle of objects which have a certain novelty 
and freshness, and at the same time are seen to be re- 
lated to what is known and familiar. The world of the 
school only attracts a child's attention so far as it adjusts 
itself to these limits, avoiding at once the too familiar 
and commonplace — save, indeed, for the purpose of open- 
ing up some new and undiscovered aspect of common 
things — and that which is totally foreign to a child's 
mind and experience. 

In the second place, it will be well to bear in mind 
that a child's power of voluntary attention is rudi- 
mentary only, and that the limited forces of the young 
brain must be economised by removing all obstacles and 
making the task of learning as attractive and agreeable 
as possible. It would be idle, for example, to try to 
enlist a child's attention if he were bodily fatigued, or if 
he were under the influence of emotional excitement and 
agitated in mind and body. Again, it would be vain to 
expect him to listen to oral instruction close to a window 
looking out on a busy street. Children's attention is, as 
we have seen, apt to flow outwards to the sights and 
sounds of the external world, and is the less easily di- 
verted by the teacher's words towards the invisible world 



164 MENTAL ELABORATION : ATTENTION. 

of imagination and thought. Consequently, in teaching 
them, everything should be done to reduce the force of 
outward things. Do not even older students, indeed, 
require for the closest and most effective attention a 
measure of quiet and retirement from the exciting pro- 
vocations of the senses ? 

But, again, the subject and the mode of treatment 
chosen by the teacher should be such as to awaken 
a child's interest. This is the most important principle 
in the education of the attention. It holds good through- 
out the processes of education, for, as we have seen, all 
fruit-bearing attention is inspired and sustained by in- 
terest. It bears more especially on the early stages of 
instruction before children have acquired the habits of 
the scholar, and find it hard to give a continuous and 
patient attention. The teacher of young children has 
before all things to make his subject-matter interesting, 
to lay especial emphasis on its attractive and impressive 
features, to invest it with pleasing suggestions, to illus- 
trate it by ample reference to what the little learners 
know and like to be reminded of. Care should be taken 
too to excite the attitude of expectant attention, to 
arouse curiosity as to what is coming, so as to secure the 
full energy of the focussing act. 

As the pupil grows more may of course be required in 
the shape of voluntary efibrt, of that self-control which 
prepares the way for close and fruitful attention. Such 
voluntary efibrt will, however, only be demanded by the 
wise teacher at the outset of the lesson, or at excep- 
tional moments, when powerful distractions have to be 
overcome. He will put his chief reliance in the growing 
attractiveness of the field of knowledge for the young 



THE AWAKENING OF INTEEEST. 165 

mind. With this view he will carefully study his pupils 
so as to observe the development of their tastes and in- 
clinations, and will adjust his teaching to this gradual 
unfolding of taste. Since all teaching, to be worthy of 
the name, must be continuous and methodical, the special 
aim of the teacher should be to form nuclei of interests, 
which may become starting-points in the development 
of connected systems of ideas. Thus he will seek to 
awaken and to lix as a permanent source of interest and 
inquiry a love of animals, of flowers and other natural 
objects, of human actions, and so forth. Such germs of 
interest will serve to direct the current of mental activity 
along definite lines. A child that has a liking for 
animals and their wa3^s will grow thoughtful and in- 
quiring about them. In this way attention to the 
teacher will be secured in the best possible way by en- 
listing the quick energetic response of the child's own 
mind, by provoking movements of thought that shall 
come to meet, so to speak, the subject-matter supplied 
by the educator. By so doing, moreover, the teacher 
will make the training of the attention a means of 
fixing and deepening the germs of childish interest and 
of gradually enlarging the field of interesting subjects.^ 

The teacher has, no doubt, to insist on attention to 
what is comparatively dry and uninteresting. This is 
illustrated in the need of learning the letters of the 
alphabet and the notes of the musical scale. Even in 
such cases, however, a judicious teacher will seek to some 

^ Volkmanu remarks that the older peedagogic had as its rule, 
Make your instruction interesting " ; whereas the newer has the pre- 
cept, " Instruct in such a way that an interest may awake and remain 
active for life ". 



166 MENTAL ELABOEATION : ATTENTION. 

extent to invest the dry details with a living interest. 
For the rest, such severe demands on the attention 
should be introduced gradually, and only fully enforced 
when the will-power is sufficiently developed. Great 
care must be taken further to graduate the length of 
mental application exacted, both in single efforts corre- 
sponding to " lessons," and in the collective work of the 
day, in accordance with the progress of the child's 
powers of voluntary attention. An ideal school-system 
would exhibit all gradations in this respect ; alterna- 
tion and complete intermission of mental activity being 
frequent at first, and growing less and less so as the 
powers of prolonged concentration develop. 

While it is thus necessary to point out the natural 
limitations of children's attention, it is by no means de- 
sirable to overlook the connections between a good deal 
of inattention, especially in older children, and the voli- 
tional or " moral " defect which we call indolence. A 
teacher who has satisfied himself that his pupil is really 
capable of putting forth the exertion needed for steady 
and persistent attention to a subject, may rightly insist 
on his making the efibrt. The difficulty here is to dis- 
tinguish want of the necessary vigour of brain and 
lack of motive. The proper mode of appealing: to a child 
so as to awaken the necessary effort ^s a subject that 
belongs to the training of the will. 

KEFERENCES FOR READING. 

For a fuller account of the process of Attention the student is re- 
ferred to the following : W. James, Psychology, chap. xiii. ; Sully, 
The Human Mind, chap. vi. ; and G. F. Stout, Analytical Psychology, 
bk. ii., chaps, ii. and iii. A good account of the results of experimental 



EXEKCISE OF VOLUNTARY ATTENTION. 167 

inquiry into Attention may be found in 0. Kiilpe's work, Outlines of 
Psychology, translated by E. B. Titchener, part iii., §§ 72-76 (Sonnen- 
schein). The reader of French will also find the following useful : Th. 
Ribot, Psychologie de l' Attention (Alcan). On the relation of Interest 
and Attention the student .may consult the following : K. Lange, Ap- 
perception, part i. (American translation, Heath & Co.) ; Felkiu, Intro- 
duction to Herbart's Science and Practice of Education, pp. 36-40, and 
p. 91 ff. 

On the early manifestations and the growth of Attention the student 
may consult : B. Perez, Fiist Three Years of Childhood, chap. viii. ; 
G. Compayre, The Intellectual and Moral Development of the Child, 
chap. viii. The reader of German may further refer to Waitz, Lehr- 
buch dcr Psychologie, § 55, and Volkmann, Lehrhiich der Psychologie, 
vol. ii., § 114. 

On the training of the Attention the reader may refer to the follow- 
ing : Locke, Soine Thoughts concerning Education, § 167 ; Maria Edge- 
worth, Essays on Practical Education, vol. i., chap. ii. ; Arthur 
Sidgwick, Stimulus (Cambridge University Press). The subject is 
dealt with also by G. Compayre, Cours de Pedagogic, lepon v. ; Beneke, 
Erziehungs und Unterrichtslehre, 4th ed., vol. i., § 19 ; Th. Waitz, 
Allgemeine Pcedagogik, vol. i., § 23 ; and T. Ziller, Allgemeine Pdda- 
gogik, §§ 25, 26. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

PERCEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

First Stage of Elaboration of Sense-Data : Per- 
ception. We have now taken a survey of our sense- 
material and of that fundamental process of attention 
by which this material comes to be appropriated by the 
mind. It remains to show how this material undergoes 
elaboration by being acted upon by the functional 
activities of intellect, viz.^ Discrimination, Assimilation, 
and Associative Complication or Integration (see above, pp. 
47, 48). The first result of the conjoint working of these 
functional activities is known as sense-perception or per- 
ception through the senses. (A child may be said to 
perceive as soon as he begins to distinguish and recog- 
nise objects, such as his mother's face, or the singing of 
the bird in a cage.y 

^ Perception is a true process of cognition, an intellectual 
apprehension of something as an object, and as such it 
must be carefully distinguished from a mere sensation*-/ 
An infant receives sensations, that is to say, has its sen- 
sational consciousness modified, as when a sudden noise 
strikes its ear, before it is able to gain distinct know- 
ledge by means of this sensational change, and to appre- 
hend its external source or the object which causes it. 
Vriie earlier state is one of passive receptivity, the later 



THE PROCESS OF PERCEPTION. 169 

of activity, in which the dawning intelligence reacts 
upon, distinguishes and interprets the sensational effect, 
or what is commonly called the sensation. 

When the process of perception is completed, and a 
child directly apprehends an object, as in distinguishing 
his mother's face among other visible objects, he is said 
to have a Percept. The term percept means in psychology 
the product of perceptional activity. It is the name for 
a conscious apprehension of an object by way of one of 
the senses. 

How Percepts are Reached. The seemingly simple 
act of distinguishing the presence of a particular object, 
as in seeing an orange, or hearing a bell, is the result of 
a process of learning. In the tirst weeks of life an in- 
fant gives no evidence of recognising the external source 
of the sounds that strike on its ear. It has not learnt to 
recognise the direction of a sound, as is clearly shown by 
its blank, wondering look, and the absence of a proper 
movement of the head and eyes in the direction of. the 
sound. Still less is it able as yet to refer the sound to a 
particular object, its mother, and to recognise this last 
by means of the sound. 

The process of perceptional apprehension appears to 
fall into two divisions. (a) First of all, the sense-data 
must be differentiated from other sense-data presented at 
the moment. Thus in perceiving the sound of a bell, a 
child must, by help of the selective direction of atten- 
tion, dealt with in the last chapter, discriminate or dis- 
tinguish this particular sound from other accompanying 
sounds. The auditory sensation must have taken on for 
the child's consciousness a distinctive character of its 
own. It is obvious, further, that along with this dis- 



170 PERCEPTION THEOUGH THE SENSES. 

crimination or sense of something different from other 
sounds, there must go assimilation or recognition. The 
child must have a sense of the familiarity of the sound, 
of its being similar to sounds previously heard. (b) 
Secondly, in the perceiving of this particular sound as 
that of a bell the child evidently shows that he men- 
tally connects the present auditory sensation with other 
sense-experiences. For a bell as a material object is 
known not to the sense of hearing but to the senses of 
touch and sight ; and mentally to refer a sensation of 
sound to this object is to go back, so to speak, more or 
less distinctly on these other experiences of handling a 
bell and looking at it. 

The first part of this process may be called the mastery 
of the sense-data themselves ; the second, the interpre- 
tation of the sense-data. Thus in looking at a natural 
object, say a tree, I first of all master by successive acts 
of attention, discrimination and assimilation the complex 
visual sensations which I receive from it, the several 
impressions of light and shade and of colour composing 
the visible appearance, and then interpret this complex 
group by bringing to bear on it what my former ex- 
perience tells me of it, for example, that that long dark 
patch is a trunk, having a hard and rough surface, and 
so forth. All this is carried out with extraordinary 
rapidity, so that it is hard at first for the student to 
believe that his mind goes through any sach process. In 
early life, however, it is pretty certainly much slower. 

(a) The Mastery of Sense-Data : Discrimination 
AND Assimilation of Sense-Impressions. From what 
has been said it is evident that our ability to distinguish 
and recognise objects depends upon and directly varies 



MASTERY OF SENSE-MATERIAL. 171 

with our ability to discriminate and assimilate our sense- 
material. 

Taking discrimination first, we see that until an infant 
begins to attend selectively now to this, now to that, 
sensation of touch, of hearing, and so forth, the outer 
world must remain for its consciousness a confusion, a 
chaos, if it can be said to exist at all. We have reason 
to suppose that at the beginning of life the many stimuli 
which play on the infant's visual organ fail to excite 
distinct impressions. A child lying in its cot may re- 
ceive a number of visual impressions from this, that and 
the other object in its field of vision, but these im- 
pressions are at this stage nothing but a confused blur. 
Thus its consciousness reaches no clear characteristic 
impression of the red of the fire, of the yellow of the 
gilt frame, and so forth. At most there is at this stage 
a vague discrimination of the luminous or bright from 
the surrounding dark. 

As the power of adjusting and fixing the eye develops, 
and the child begins to attend to this or that part of the 
field, the impressions begin to take on more of distinct- 
ness. And with the recurrence of the same or similar 
fields of vision and repeated efforts of attention the dis- 
crimination gets finer. Thus, not only is the very bright 
distinguished from the very dark, but moderate degrees 
of bright and dark are distinguished, as when a faint 
pencil stroke on the paper is distinctively noted. Simi- 
larly qualitative differences among the visual sensations 
come to be gradually attended to. Thus the look of a red 
colour is mentally picked out as different from, say, that of 
a blue, and with practice finer differences, e.g., that between 
the colour of a lemon and of an orange, are apprehended. 



172 PEECEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

In the closest connection with this there is developed 
the power of assimilating the sense-material. As like 
impressions and groups of impressions recur, a child will 
by successive directions of attention come to recognise 
them as familiar. This means that previous similar im- 
pressions liave in a sense persisted, or at least have left 
some effect behind them which, enables the mind to know 
that it has had them before. Thus after many hearings 
of the mother's or nurse's voice the infant on again 
hearing the sound shows by its cessation from crying or 
by its joyous movements that it recognises the sound. 
Similarly it comes gradually, and as the result of re- 
peated experiences, to recognise as familiar the group of 
visual impressions answering to its mother's face, to its 
bath, and so forth. Such recognition grows in readiness, 
and requires less of close attention, the more frequently 
the sense-material presents itself. 

These functions co-operate in a very close manner. 
A child only discriminates impressions clearly after they 
have recurred again and again, and so taken on some- 
thing of familiarity. This is seen in the distinguish- 
ing of tlie mother's voice, of the rather complex sen- 
sations of taste and touch supplied by the milk, and so 
on. On the other hand, the progress of discrimination 
enables a child to recognise more and more of his sense- 
material. Thus it is only when he distinguishes yellow 
from orange that he is able to recognise each. Or we 
may say that a child's recognitions remain vague until 
discrimination introduces detiniteness of character into 
the sense-material. 

(h) Interpretation of Sense-Data. In perceiving 
an object a child not only distinguishes and recognises a 



INTEBPRETATION OF SENSE-MATERIAL. 173 

mass of sense-material, he interprets it by a mental 
reference to other sense-experiences. This has been 
illustrated in the act of attributing an auditory impres- 
sion to an object called a bell. This reference implies 
what may be called an associative complication. That is 
to say, an association has been formed between this par- 
ticular sensation of sound and certain experiences of 
touch and sight (handling and looking at the bell), so 
that when this sensation recurs it tends to reinstate 
these experiences under the form of more or less distinct 
representations. These representations are mentally 
organised or integrated with the sensation into one 
whole, viz., the perception of a sounding body. This 
combination of different parts of our sense-experience 
into a unity, viz., the perception of an object, may be 
called a process of associative synthesis} 

This reinstatement of associated sense-experiences 
takes place in different ways. Sometimes that which is 
reinstated is of the same kind as that which reinstates. 
Thus if in the dark I happen in feeling for something on 
the table to touch the blade of a knife, this impression is 
supplemented by a vague tactile representation of the 
sharp edge. In other cases the representation is that 
of another kind of experience. This is most strikingly 
illustrated in the way in which our tactile experiences 
are recalled by the sensations of hearing and of sight. 
I go back on these experiences of touch when I refer 
an impression of a metallic sound to a bell or of a creak- 
ing sound to a door ; I do so also, as we shall see pres- 
ently, when I look at objects and recognise them to be 

^ Synthesis, as opposed to analysis (resolving a whole into its parts), 
means the combining of parts into a whole. 



174 PEECEPTION THEOUGH THE SENSES. 

material bodies, with what I should know, were I to 
touch them, to be rough or smooth surfaces, and so forth. 
Special Channels of Perception. The sensations 
of each of the senses tend to recall the other sensations 
of the whole experience-group to which they belong, 
and by help of such reinstatements the mind is able to 
refer them to the unity of a single object. Thus a child 
refers his sensations of smell to objects, as when he says, 
" I smell apples," just as he refers sensations of light and 
colour to objects, as when he says, " I see a candle ". 
Nevertheless, when we talk of perceiving objects we 
generally refer to the knowledge of them gained at the 
time through one of the higher senses, and more par- 
ticularly sight or touch. 

The reason why these two senses are thus distin- 
guished has been hinted at in a previous chapter. We 
there saw that they were marked off from the other 
'■^ senses by having a fine local discrimination and a rich 
accompaniment of muscular activity and its concomitant 
sensations. Owing to these circumstances these two 
senses supply us with more varied sense-data than the 
other senses. In hearing the sound of a bell I only 
apprehend one aspect or quality of a thing : in grasping 
it between my two hands I mentally seize a whole group 
of features, viz., its form (which is itself a highly com- 
plex impression), its size, its weight, its hardness, its 
smooth cold surface, etc. 

The additional knowledge gained by means of the local 
distinctions among the impressions of touch and sight, 
and by the accompanying muscular experiences, is more- 
over of a most important kind. It includes first of all 
the knowledge of the situation in space of the object 



CHANNELS OF PEECEPTION. 175 

perceived, and along with this a knowledge of its 
" geometrical " or space properties, viz., its figure or 
shape and its magnitude. Secondly, it comprises, in 
the case of touch, a knowledge of its "mechanical" pro- 
perties, viz., resistance, under its several forms of hard- 
ness, weight, etc. And these properties are the most 
essential part of what we mean by a material object, 
forming the kernel, so to speak, of the meaning of the 
name " thing ". 

Touch and sight do not, however, stand on precisely 
the same level as channels of perception. For first of 
all, as we shall see presently, the knowledge of geometric 
properties is in certain respects fuller and more direct in 
the case of touch than in that of sight. And secondly, 
with respect to the important mechanical properties, 
hardness, weight, etc., our knowledge is altogether de- 
rived from touch. Hence tactile apprehension is to be 
regarded as the primary and most fundamental form 
of perception, and may be best dealt with before visual 
perception. 

Perceptions of Touch. These may be conveniently 
treated under two heads : (1) the abstract perceptions of 
the space qualities, and more especially the situation, 
form and magnitude of objects, and (2) the more con- 
crete perceptions of things as wholes, such as a pebble 
or an orange. 

The first kind of perception may be illustrated by the 
way in which a child, using merely the sense of touch, 
would learn the shape and size of a small cube, say one 
of his playing bricks. In this process the sensibility of 
the skin to pressure, its local discrimination, and lastly 
the muscular sense, each contributes to the development 



176 PEKCEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

of the percept. At first sight it might seem as if a child 
by merely laying the palm of his hand on one of the 
surfaces would get, without looking at it, a clear idea of 
its form and size. But this is not so. The primitive 
discriminative sensibility of the several parts of the skin 
is not enough for distinct perception. Movement and 
the muscular sensations which tell of the direction and 
the length of the movement are required. Even in later 
life we can get a much clearer impression of the form of 
a small wire oval or triangle by passing the finger tip 
round it than by laying it on the hand, and the differ- 
ence is probably greater than this at first. A child who 
wants to have clear and exact knowledge of the square 
side of his cube must, therefore, pass the fingers about 
the four edges, so as to note how the movement of the 
hand remains unchanged along each of the edges, how 
long this uniform movement lasts, and in what manner 
it changes at each of the angles. 

This detailed investigation by the successive ex- 
periences of movement may then be supplemented by 
placing the extended hand over the surface, and so ob- 
taining through the local discrimination of the several 
areas of the skin acted upon a simultaneous perception 
of the whole. It is probable that both modes of inspect- 
ing a surface commonly combine in tactile perception. 
It is to be added that the clear local discrimination of 
the several parts of the surface of an object is developed 
by means of movement. It is by passing the fingers of one 
hand over the other that the original differences of local 
sensibility become clear. Thus a child learns the mean- 
ing of two touches, say one on the wrist and the other 
on the extremity of the second finger, because he has 



HOW WE PEKCEIVE BY TOUCH. 177 

moved the fingers of his other liand again and again 
from one of these two points to the other, and so 
measured out the exact relative position of each point, 
and the distance between them. 

The knowledge of only one of the surfaces of the 
brick would thus be a very complex affair, and involve 
the grouping or integrating of many sense-elements ; 
and the knowledge of the whole cubical form would 
further involve the combination and integration of a 
number of these groups. This aggregate of experiences 
would be completed by taking the brick into the two 
hands and so gaining a clearer idea of it as a whole, i.e., 
a cube or block having " three dimensions " or solidity. 

That in this way children are able to gain very clear 
perceptions of form, is seen in the fact that those who 
are born blind, and so receive no assistance from sight, 
are capable of representing and reasoning about geomet- 
rical forms. And even in the case of children who have 
the use of their eyes, it is probable that the first clear 
impressions of form, e.g., of the bottle, of the mother's 
face, are gained largely by way of the exploring and 
measuring hands. 

In apprehending the presence of a whole concrete 
thing, as a pebble, the group of impressions just described 
would be taken up into a still larger aggregate. Thus 
in learning what a pebble is, a child connects what he 
has observed respecting its form with its hardness, cold- 
ness, smoothness and weight. His knowledge of the 
pebble is the result of all this various sense-experience 
organised or unified into a seemingly simple mental pro- 
duct. That is to say, when he grasps the pebble all the 
properties, shape, size, temperature, weight, etc., are appre- 
13 



178 PERCEPTION THEOUGH THE SENSES. 

hended, though some of these are more prominent and in 
the foreground of his consciousness, whereas others may be 
only indistinctly represented in the background. Where 
the knowledge of an object, as in the case of an orange, 
involves important elements furnished by other senses {e.g., 
colour, taste and smell), the group of tactile impressions 
may still suffice for a clear recognition. Thus a child of 
three or four will on touching an orange instantly appre- 
hend the object as a whole, that is, recognise it as an 
orange. In this completed act of perception the group 
of tactile qualities immediately apprehended will of 
course stand out most distinctly, while such qualities 
as the colour, taste and smell will be only indistinctly 
represented. 

Visual Perception. We all know that sight is in 
normal circumstances the leading avenue of perception. 
This supremacy is due in part to the fact that in look- 
ing we can apprehend things at a distance as well as 
near, and also a considerable number of objects at 
the same time, as the pictures on a wall, the buildings 
in a street. To this must be added the very im- 
portant fact that when we see things we can generally 
tell how they would appear to the sense of touch. In 
other words, we are given to supplementing visual im- 
pressions by representations of what touch gives us, and 
may even be said to translate these impressions into the 
language of the more elementary experiences of active 
touch. Seeing is thus in part a representative process, 
and illustrates in a peculiar way the interpretation of 
one kind of sense-material by reference to other kinds. 

Perception of Form by the Eye. In learning the 
direction and length of lines and the form and magni- 



HOW WE SEE FOEM. 179 

tude of objects, as they mi^yht be drawn on a blackboard, 
the sense of sight is developing its own mode of per- 
ception. This visual perception, it is plain, resembles 
the Jbactile perception already considered, in so far as 
it arises by the grouping of a number of experiences, 
passive and active. Thus in finding out by looking at 
the gable of a house what a triangle is, a child combines 
the experience gained in moving the eye about the con- 
tour, with the composite impression obtained with the eye 
at rest, by means of the local discrimination of the several 
parts of the retina. A nice and accurate appreciation of 
the linear form or contour of an object appears to imply, 
in the early years at least, movements of the eye along 
the boundary lines. It is only after such movements 
have been executed many times that the perception of 
form by the eye when at rest becomes distinct. And 
this means that the several distinctive local characters 
among the retinal sensations have acquired a more pre- 
cise value. 

A clear perception of any particular form, such as a 
cross, an ellipse, or the letter M, is the outcome of a de- 
tailed inspection of the several form -elements together 
with an apprehension of their relations one to another. 
Thus in apprehending the form of the cross the learner 
must perceive more or less distinctly the vertical and 
the horizontal arm, and observe their opposed direc- 
tions as well as the way in which they are combined, 
their relative lengths, etc. 

This perception of "flat " form, that is, as it can be 
represented on a flat surface, such as a blackboard, is, 
however, fragmentary and abstract. The forms of real 
objects from which a child first gains his knowledge are 



180 PEKCEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

those of solid bodies having what is called the " third 
dimension," that is to say, thickness or *' depth," as well 
as length and breadth. When we look at a globe we 
perceive one part of the surface to be nearer the eye 
or advancing, another part to be farther off or receding. 
This discrimination of a solid form as distinguished from 
a flat drawing clearly involves the perception of the dis- 
tance of the several points perceived from the eye. 

Perception of Distance and Solidity. The Theory 
of Vision known as the Berkeleyan (from its author, 
Bishop Berkeley) teaches that the perception of distance 
by sight, though apparently as direct as that of colour, 
is in part at least indirect and acquired. In seeing an 
object as situated at a certain distance from us, we are 
interpreting visual impressions by a reference to move- 
ment of the limbs and to touch. In other words, we can 
only fully realise the distance of an object by traversing, 
either with the arm or with the whole body, the space 
that intervenes between us and it. Although this theory 
is still disputed by certain psychologists, I shall here 
adopt it as on the whole the more satisfactory.^ 

According to this doctrine, children do not at first see 
things as we see them, one nearer than another. This 
view is supported by the experience of children who 
were born blind, and afterwards obtained the use of 
their eyes. All objects appear to such at first as touch- 
ing the eyes. Further, they cannot distinguish between 
a flat drawing and a solid body. It is only after a 

1 The opposed view is that a complete visual perception of space in 
three dimensions is possible without any aid from active touch. A short 
account of this theory may be found in Prof. W. James' Psychology^ 
chap. xxi. 



HOW WE SEE DISTANCE. 181 

certain amount of practice in looking at things that they 
learn to distinguish near and far. 

The development of the visual perception of distance 
takes place hy the use of sight and touch together. A 
child finds out how far off a thing is from himself by 
movements of his limbs. Thus, an infant sitting at a 
table becomes aware of the distance of an object on 
the table by stretching out its hands and noting how far 
it has to reach out before it touches the thingf. When 
the child is able to run about, the movements of his legs 
supply him with a measure of greater distances, such 
as that between his cot and the fireplace. In carrying 
out these movements the eyes also are being actively 
employed. Thus the little explorer notes the difierence 
in the appearance of the object to the eye when he moves 
nearer to it or farther off" from it. He observes, for 
example, by means of the muscular sensations which 
accompany every ocular movement, that he has to make 
his eyes turn inwards or converge more in order to 
see the object distinctly when he moves nearer to it, 
and that it takes on more of distinct detail, and has a 
larger appearance ; whereas when he moves away the 
peculiar strain of convergence is wanting, and the object 
grows less distinct in its parts, and also takes on a 
smaller or shrunk-up appearance. After many repetitions 
he learns to connect the experiences supplied by active 
touch {i.e., moving the arm or the whole body and touch- 
ing) with these changing effects on the eye. When the 
process of grouping and organising these experiences is 
complete, the recurrence of the proper group of visual 
effects at once suggests more or less distinctly the cor- 
responding experiences of movement and touch. Thus 



182 PEKCEPTION THEOUGH THE SENSES. 

the sensation of muscular strain in looking at a near 
object, aided by the greater distinctness and apparent 
bigness of the object, serves as a sign which instantly 
tells the seer that this object is near and within his reach. 

The perception of magnitude is closely connected with 
that of distance. The real magnitude of an object is 
only fully made known to a child through experiences of 
active touch, either by taking it, if a small object, into 
the hands, or in the case of a larger object, as a table, by 
walking round it, and so measuring out its circum- 
ference. All that the eye tells him is the apparent 
magnitude, which, as is well known, decreases as the 
distance increases. In recognising an object, say a 
chair, at different distances, a child has to allow for 
variations of the apparent size, connecting these with 
changes in the distance. Hence when he fails to dis- 
tinguish the distance, as in looking at a ship on the sea, 
or the moon, he is apt to make absurd blunders as to size. 

The perception of a cubical or, as it is sometimes 
called, *' solid" body illustrates the same associative 
complication of experiences. Here, too, the child has to 
interpret his visual impressions by the aid of his past 
experiences and the knowledge already gained by active 
touch. That the eye, unaided by this experience of 
movement and touch, has little knowledge of solidity is 
seen in the fact that even an adult may easily fall into 
the illusion of taking a flat drawing for a solid body or 
object " in relief," as, for example, when looking at a 
skilfully shaded drawing or at the painted scenes of a 
theatre. The only way in which we can fully assure 
ourselves that an object has the third dimension of a 
cube is by taking it into the two hands. 



SEEma MAGNITUDE AND SOLIDITY. 183 

The apprehension of solidity by the eye is, like that of 
distance and magnitude, effected by means of certain 
visual signs. In looking at a flat picture of an object 
each eye receives a precisely similar impression ; but in 
looking at a solid object, say a book, the two impressions 
differ. Thus if the book is held a little in front of the 
face with its back towards the seer, his left eye sees 
more of the left cover while his right eye sees more of 
the right. The fact that the perception of solidity 
depends mainly on the presence of two unlike visual 
impressions is proved by the stereoscope, the two draw- 
ings of which, seen by the right and the left eye re- 
spectively, are taken from slightly different points of 
view, and so secure for the two eyes just that amount of 
dissimilarity of impression in the retinal images which 
is present when we look at a solid body. It is by noting 
this dissimilarity and connecting it with the fact of 
solidity as known by active touch that a child learns to 
recognise real objects having bulk, and to distinguish 
them from flat drawino^s. 

Intuition of Things. In looking at an object, as in 
touching it, we apprehend simultaneously a group of 
qualities, synthesising or unifying these into a single 
whole. In other words, we have an intuition of a 
single thing or object. In this integrated mass of 
features and qualities we have primarily those immedi- 
ately presented to sight, as the look of brightness or 
darkness of the object as a whole in contrast to its 
surroundings, the distribution of light and shade on its 
surface, its colour (or distribution of colours), and the 
form and magnitude of its surface as they appear to the 
eye. Along with these directly presented elements come 



184 PERCEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

the partially represented elements which involve the 
closely organised integrations and experiences of sight 
and touch, viz., the distance, the solid shape, and the 
real magnitude. With these may be taken the per- 
ception of number, as one object, two objects, and so 
forth, which probably involves some vague reference to 
the experience of handling things. A more distinct 
representation of touch is implied in the perception by 
means of sight of the surface of an object as rough or 
as smooth.^ These may be called the fundamental part of 
our intuition of a particular object. In looking at any 
new object, as for instance a crystal, a child will 
instantly intuit or take in with a more or less distinct 
apprehension this group of qualities ; and by noting 
this group he will afterwards be able to recognise the 
object in its completeness. Thus by noting the colour, 
shape, size, etc., of an orange he will be able to recognise 
another object as an orange, i.e., as an object possessing 
certain other distinguishing qualities, as a particular 
degree of softness, a particular taste, and so forth. 

Perception of Our Own Body. In close connection 
with the perception of external objects a child comes to 
know the several parts of his own body. This know- 
ledge is clearly implied in our common references of our 
sensations, more especially on their pleasurable and pain- 
ful side, to certain regions of the body as their seat. 
Thus skin sensations, as those of " creeping," are re- 
ferred to particular areas of the skin, while muscular 
sensations of cramp or fatigue are "localised" in 
some limb, such as the right arm or the left foot. The 

1 The visual " sign " in this case is evidently the mode of distributioa 
of lis;ht and shade. 



HOW WE KNOW OUR BODY. 185 

deep-seated feelings of comfort and discomfort connected 
with varying conditions of the vital organs, such as in- 
digestion, heart flutter, are also localised though in a less 
definite manner. Now these references to this and that 
part of the body are not possible at the beginning of life 
any more than the references of the sensations of the 
special senses to objeets external to the body. A child 
has to learn where to localise his several bodily sensa- 
tions; and this he can only do by coming to know 
something about his bodily framework and its various 
pares. 

This knowledge, just like that of an external object, is 
gained by means of certain impressions of touch and 
sight. As we all know, an infant begins within the 
first months of life to examine its legs, arms, face and so 
on, with its h^nds. By frequent manual excursions over 
the surface of the body, the situation, shape and size of 
the several parts gradually become known. The eyes, 
too, are engaged in these early observations, so that a 
visual picture or " map " is gradually put together and 
combined with the tactile perception. One little boy 
was first seen to look attentively at his hands in the 
ninth week. All such excursions of hand and eye over 
the surface of the body help, as already suggested, to 
give clearness to the original " local discriminations " of 
this and that part. 

While these experiments of the little hands help to 
develop and perfect the differences of local sensibility at 
different parts of the bodily surface, and so further a 
clearer tactile perception of the situation of objects, 
they serve another purpose, viz., elementary self-know- 
ledge. As a child learns to know about his body, he 



186 PERCEPTION THROUC^H THE SENSES. 

grows aware of the fact that this body is marked off 
from all other objects through its close connection with 
his conscious life, and more particularly with his several 
feelings of pleasure and pain. In this way the develop- 
ment of the perception of the body supplies the first 
rudimentary idea of the " me ". The tracing out of the 
growth of this side of the perception belongs to a 
later chapter. 

Perception and Recognition. It is usual to dis- 
tinguish the act of perceiving an object, that is, coming 
to know it by way of sense-perception, and the sub- 
sequent act of recognising it when seen again. And this 
distinction roughly represents the order of our know- 
ledge : we first note and examine things, and then as the 
result of such examination we recognise things. 

At the same time it is well to note that perception 
and recognition always go together. The account of per- 
ception given above shows that we could not see things 
properly so as to apprehend their qualities and relations 
(form, magnitude, etc.) unless we preserved the results 
of our past experience, and assimilated the new presenta- 
tion to what we know already. Whenever then we per- 
ceive a new object we carry out processes of recognition 
hy assimilating its several features to what we have 
already observed. 

Taking the word recognition, however, in its usual 
sense as the identification of an object as a whole, we 
see that it presupposes first of all the germ of memory. 
A child who is able to recognise his nurse, his home, and 
so forth must have noted tlie object with adequate 
attention and not too long ago. This aspect of the pro- 
cess will be considered later on. 



PEBCEIVING AND RECOGNISING. 187 

Assuming for the present that the past conditions of 
recognition have been realised, the due carrying out of 
this process plainly involves a new act of perception. In 
recognising an object, say my overcoat in a crowd of over- 
coats, I have to look at it and inspect it. The success of 
the act of recognition will depend on the closeness of this 
inspection. The less familiar the object, the closer of 
course will the inspection have to become. Objects 
which are well known, and which are placed favourably 
for recognition, e.g., my overcoat on its customary home- 
peg, may be recognised in a semi-conscious way by a 
mere glance. 

EARLY DEVELOPMENT OF PERCEPTIONS. 

Characteristics of Children's Perceptions. Our 
analysis of perception has suggested the way in which 
our percepts are gradually built up and perfected. In 
the first weeks of life there is little if any clear per- 
ception of outer things. The child receives a variety 
of sense-impressions, viz., those of touch, hearing and 
sight, but these are not yet discriminated and assimi- 
lated ; still less are they definitely referred to the wholes 
which we call external objects. 

The growth of perception is furthered by the gradual 
differentiation of sense-material, through distinct acts 
of attention, for example, the distinguishing of touches 
from tastes, one touch from another touch. Although the 
nervous apparatus needed for receiving distinct im- 
pressions of tone, colour and so forth is perfected within 
the first few days of life, it is a long time before the 
child's consciousness clearly discriminates one element 
from others, so as to be able to recognise it distinctly 



188 PERCEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

when its recurs. A certain amount of repetitioQ seems 
necessary to this clear discrimination. 

Observations have been carried out on the way in 
which this discriminative ability progresses, but the 
results are not very definite. Different observers, 
experimenting on the colour-sense of the child, have 
come to very unlike results as to the order in which 
the several colours are distinguished and recognised. 
The observations seem to show that there is a general 
tendency to single out and name the reds and yellows 
rather than the " colder " colours, and this result if con- 
firmed would suggest that children take more pleasure 
in these warm and bright or luminous colours. 

The progress of discriminative attention and recogni- 
tion is throughout determined in part by preferential 
interest The child first notes and distinguishes the 
touches, the tastes, the sounds which he likes best, for 
example, the soft touch of pussy's fur, the sweet taste of 
sugar, the sound of the canary's song ; and as a result of 
this he recognises these first. 

The progress of this discriminative mastery of the 
materials of sense varies greatly among children. It is 
probable, as we have seen, that considerable difterences of 
sense-capacity exist among children in the matter of 
colours and of tones. These original differences would of 
course help to determine the whole range of improve- 
ment possible by way of repeated exercise of function. 
Next to these conditions we must take into account the 
amount of special interest taken in the particular sense- 
material. Some children are much more attracted by 
colours, by tones, and so forth than are others. Since, 
too, discrimination depends on attention, it follows that 



EARLY PERCEPTIONS. 189 

where there is more brain-energy, and consequently a 
more intense and prolonged mental activity, the dis- 
crimination will advance more rapidly. The effect of 
special exercise and training is seen in the exceptional 
development of discriminative and assimilative power 
in those who through want of a sense have had to 
throw more than the customary amount of mental ac- 
tivity into other regions of sense-experience. This 
is strikingly illustrated in the preternaturally keen and 
fine hearing and touching of the blind. The girl 
Laura Bridgman, who owing to an illness lost nearly all 
sensibility save that of touch, and was educated solely 
by the medium of this sense, developed a local " dis- 
crimination " of the points of a pair of compasses from 
twice to three times as great as that of an ordinary per- 
son, and was able after a certain amount of experience to 
judge with a fair degree of accuracy of a stranger's age 
by the feel of the wrinkles of the face. Such fineness of 
sense-discrimination is plainly due not to any natural 
superiority of organ, but to special attention and practice 
in discriminating and recognising sense-material. 

Turning now to the other side of perception, that com- 
plication and integration of sense-material which under- 
lies the interpretation of sense-impressions, we find a 
number of careful observations. Thus Preyer and others 
have noted the steps by which an infant learns to co- 
ordinate the movements appropriate to different kinds of 
sense-impressions and the dates at which the successive 
stages of progress are reached. In this way we know 
that four or five months may be required for learning to 
direct the eyes voluntarily and with precision towards 
objects in the side of the field, as also to reach out the 



190 PEECEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

hand and grasp an object seen. That the perception of 
distance is still faulty at this age is seen in the fact that 
some time later a child will try to grasp objects lying 
beyond his reach. One little boy acquired a distinct 
visual perception of distance reachable by the hand about 
the age of six months. 

Children's perceptions remain very imperfect during 
the second half of the first year, and even later. Thus the 
difference in look between a flat picture and a solid body 
seems to be discerned but very slowly. The distances 
of objects not reachable by the arm are apprehended 
more slowly than those within reach of them. The 
change in the look of objects as the child is carried about 
the room impresses him no doubt, but the meaning of 
these changes only becomes fully apprehended when he 
begins to walk, and to find out the amounts of loco- 
motive exertion answering respectively to the different 
appearances of things. It is some years, however, before 
he begins to note with any accuracy the signs of dis- 
tance in the case of remote objects. 

It is much the same with the apprehension of objects 
as wholes. At about the age of six months a child shows 
signs of discriminatively recognising his mother, father, 
and so on, and of discerning strange faces as such. 
During the second half year he will learn to distinguish 
visually and to recognise a fair number of frequently 
presented objects, such as his feeding-bottle, his father's 
watch, pussy, the bird in the cage, and so forth. Smaller 
objects which are moved about, or which themselves 
move (as animals), appear to be noted and marked off 
from surrounding objects before others ; and this for a 
double reason : (a) because moving things as such atti-act 



GROWTH OF PERCEPTION. 191 

attention and arouse interest, and (h) because a moving 
object is more easily detached by the eye from the whole 
visible scene, and viewed as a separate thing. Objects 
having exceptional brightness or lustre, or attracting by 
their sound, tend also to participate in this early dis- 
criminative perception. That is to say, perception, like 
other forms of mental activity, dcvelojjs along the lines 
of special interest. 

Measurement of Perception. Experimental psycliology has made 
a beginning at measuring the ability to perceive objects. Thus, as has 
been observed above, it has devised tests for measuring that important 
conptituent of sense-perception, " discriminative sensibility " to colours, 
tones, length of lines, and so forth. In these experiments the aim is 
to ascertain the smallest difference which is barely recognisable when 
attention is focussed on two colours or other sense-material. The finer 
the difference, the higher the discrimination. Further, in connection 
with reaction-time experiments, it is possible to measure the interval 
required for recognising a sound or a colour. These experiments have 
also been carried further, and applied to simple visible forms. 

Children might be further tested with respect to the rapidity with 
which they can discriminatively pick out a form, say that of a tree, 
animal, or letter from among a number o\ dissimilar forms. 

A further mode of measuring observation, especially in its more ex- 
tended and comprehensive forms, would be to set before a child, say 
for half a minute, a complex object, such as an unfamiliar plant or a 
picture of some historical gcene, and see how much he can set down 
immediately afterivards,^ either by describing or by drawing. Experi- 
ments carefully carried out would test not merely general ability to 
perceive clearly and rapidly, but special directions of interest. ^ 

^ The importance of this condition depends on the fact that if a 
longer interval elapses a more complex form of memory comes into play. 

^ A good, short account of anthropometrical experiments carried 
out on children's sense-capacity may be found in an article by J. M. 
Cattell, " Tests of the Senses and Faculties," American Educational 
lieview, 1893, p. 257 ft". 



192 PERCEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

EDUCATIONAL CONTROL OF PERCEPTION. 

What Training of the Senses Means. The trainiuo; 
of the senses is sometimes spoken of as if it were mainly 
an exercise of the sense-organs, e.g., the eye in readily 
directing itself towards and fixing an object. But this 
language is figurative and apt to mislead. Our analysis 
has shown that in order to develop the full use and 
function of the outer sense-organs a good deal of brain- 
activity must be called forth. In truth, we can only be 
said to train the senses properly and completely when 
we exercise a child in those ^mental processes, selective 
attention, discrimination, etc., by which the given sense- 
material is worked up into clear percepts. 

We may, then, define the aim of sense-training as the 
development of good observing powers, that is to say, 
of a habit of close and accurate inspection of things by 
means of the senses, and of readiness and certainty in 
recognising them. 

The work of exercising children in the best kind of 
sense-perception is a much more complex process than it 
at first looks. The level of what may be called natural 
perception, that which suffices for everyday purposes, 
has to be exceeded. Not only must attention be exercised 
in noting the finer parts of an object; a process of analysis 
must be carried out on the perceptions, so that there may 
be a full, explicit apprehension of the more important 
qualities of an object, and of the relations of the parts 
of an object one to another, and especially those which 
constitute its form. 

The training of the senses may be said to fall roughly 
into two main divisions : (a) the methodical exercise of 



WHAT TEAINING OF SENSES MEANS. 193 

discriminative sensibility so as to make the senses fine 
or acute, and (b) exercises in that more methodical 
kind of sense-perception which involves the analysis 
of qualities and relations, and separate acts of attention 
to these. We may call this last the observation of 
objects, since it resembles the process carried out in 
scientific observations. 

(a) Training in the Discrimination of Sense- 
Material. The methodical training of the senses begins 
with the mastery of sense-material, and more particu- 
larly with discrimination, on which, as we have seen, all 
fine assimilation so closely depends. The special object 
of this branch is to render the senses quick and exact in 
seizing the precise shades of difference among the 
several impressions presented to them. And the im- 
portance of this exercise in sense-discrimination depends 
on the fact that in proportion as we discriminate our 
sense-impressions finely shall we be able to distinguish 
and know objects accurately, and as a result of this, be 
afterwards able to call up distinct images of them, and 
to think with precision about them. The child that con- 
fuses its impressions of colour, of form, and so forth, will 
as a consequence be only able to imagine and think in a 
hazy and confused manner. 

This training in discrimination may be carried out in 
a less systematic way in the nursery. The infant's 
surroundings, the toys to be handled, the picture books, 
even the pictures on the wall, should be chosen with a 
view to a sufficient variety of sense-material. Since, 
moreover, the object of training is to develop a clear 
sense of the differences among things, objects should be 
brought together in such a way as to present contrasts 
It 



194 PEECEPTION THEOUGH THE SENSES. 

in juxtaposition. The natural order of sense-develop- 
ment must be followed, the first differences to be brought 
under a child's notice being broad contrasts, e.g., that of a 
hard and a soft material, of a blue and a yellow colour, 
of a high and a low tone, finer distinctions being left 
for a later stage. With variety should go a certain 
amount of repetition of impressions so that the pupil be 
exercised in identifying these. Hence the surroundings 
should not be too frequently changed. Although, as we 
have seen, change and novelty are valuable stimuli to 
the attention, a certain measure of sameness and perma- 
nence is necessary to a thorough familiarity with the 
various kinds of sense-material. 

A more systematic procedure can be gradually intro- 
duced, aiming at a full and accurate knowledge of the 
several sense-elements. Thus in training the colour- 
sense the educator may best proceed by selecting first of 
all a few bright and striking colours, such as white, red and 
blue. Each of these must be made familiar and its name 
learnt. After being presented separately they should be 
shown in juxtaposition, so that the differences may be 
clearly noted. Juxtaposition or the bringing of two 
things side by side in space, or, as in the case of sounds, 
in immediate succession in time, is the most valuable 
instrument in exercising the senses. By seeing two 
colours side by side the individual character of each is 
made more apparent and the precise amount of difference 
between them is much better appreciated. 

When a few elements have thus been thoroughly 
learned new ones may be added. In this way the child 
will not only add to its stock of sense-materials, but will 
have its former impressions rendered still more definite 



TEAINING IN DISCKIMINATION. 195 

by a grasp of more numerous and finer relations of differ- 
ence. Thus, by adding the two colours yellow and 
orange to red the learner will have a more exact im- 
pression of red as different not only from green and blue, 
but from the more closely related colours (yellow and 
orange). It is to be added that a clear, explicit appre- 
hension of colour relations as such can only be reached 
gradually. To classif}^ all the various red-tints as reds, 
and, what is much more, to appreciate the precise 
amounts of difference and of similarity between colours, 
or, in other words, their distances one from the other in the 
scale of colour, is to go beyond the bare process of sense- 
perception and to exercise in a measure a difficult kind 
of thought-activity, viz., a subtle comparison of things. 

The method, here roughly described, may be said to be 
typical of the method of sense-training in general. 
Whether the educator is dealing with tones (on the side 
of pitch and intensity or stress), with the elements of form 
(straight lines and curves), or with other sense-material, 
as the muscular and other sensations which enter into 
and guide manual movements, the practising of the 
child in discrimination and in the simpler kind of classi- 
fication implies the same general conditions. That is 
to say, juxtaposition is the valuable instrument through- 
out : broad contrasts must precede finer differences : 
comparatively simple presentations, e.g., two tones, two 
form-elements, must come first, and more complex 
series of elements, such as two musical chords, two geo- 
metrical figures, later on : the recognition of degrees of 
difference and of likeness must come after the bare 
discernment of difference and likeness. 

Throughout this branch of training the educator should 



196 PERCEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

remember that the finer exercises in discrimination imply 
a special effort of attention, and are apt to be felt as a 
severe strain by the child. They should not, therefore, 
be greatly prolonged. If, however, the risk of over- 
exertion is avoided, such exercises may be made not 
only tolerable but positively agreeable. For children love 
activity, and activity of body and of mind is enlisted 
when a child is invited not only to compare colours but 
to select and to arrange them. 

While these exercises in the finer discrimination and 
assimilation of sense-material are thus valuable, it is 
possible to over-rate their value. This Rousseau seems 
to have done in his conception of a boy exercised by 
daily practice in the finer discriminations and detec- 
tions of the savage, and able to distinguish objects in 
the dark by the sense of touch with something of the 
skill of the blind. ^ It has been remarked that civilised 
men are less dependent on fine sense- capacity than 
savages and the lower animals. As Isaac Taylor says 
{Home Education, chap, iv.) : " It is to the savage, or it 
is to men exercising special callings of an inferior sort, 
that there can be much benefit in having the senses 
sharpened to an extreme acuteness ". To devote a con- 
siderable amount of school-time and effort to raising 
discriminative power above what may be called the 
normal level would certainly not be wise. The claims of 
the higher work of intellectual instruction do not allow 
of this.2 

^ See what lie says on the advantages of games in the dark, Emile, 
livre ii., p. 128 sqq. (edition of Garnier Freres). 

^ Compare what is said by W. H. Payne, Contributions to the Science 
of Educaiion, pp. 27, and 81, 82. 



VALUE OF SENSE-DISCBIMINATION. 197 

(6) Training in the Observation of Things. We 
may now turn to that fuller process of training which 
has to do with a full, accurate and orderly way of in- 
specting things. This is best marked off as Observation. 
The object of this training is to exercise the child's mind 
in a full explicit apprehension of the whole object by a 
clear grasp of its parts, qualities and relations. It in- 
volves exercises of thought, properly so called, viz., the 
analysis of objects so as to grasp their qualities and 
relations, and the supplementary process of synthesis. 
We have seen how a child spontaneously synthesises a 
mass of sense-material when he forms his percepts. Yet 
this process is carried out very largely in a sub-conscious 
way, and does not involve a clear apprehension of what 
we call the qualities and the relations of an object. We 
have now to see how by the aid of methodical training 
he obtains such a clear apprehension of an object as 
being made up of certain qualities and relations. 

Exercises in Methodical Observation of Form. 
In order to illustrate this training in explicit, clear 
observation, we may take what is of greatest importance 
for knowledge, the form of an object. Many children, 
at least, have only a very shadowy idea of the form of a 
spoon, of a cage, of a horse, and so forth. They seem to 
apprehend the whole scheme in a vague way — say the 
general look of a horse as determined by the juxta- 
position of the head, neck, body and legs — but they have 
no clear apprehension of the shape and size of these 
several parts, or of their relations of position and of mag- 
nitude (proportion) one to another. This seems to be 
illustrated by their uncritical acceptance of very rough 
and even inexact drawings of familiar forms, such as 



198 PERCEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

those of a man, a horse, and a tree. When they 
attend to certain details which particularly impress them 
they are apt on this very account to fall into a one-sided, 
fragmentary way of looking at things, as wdien a little 
boy of two called a bronze statue of a stork " gee-gee " 
(horse), apparently on the ground of its possessing a long 
neck like the horse. Their descriptions of what they 
have seen appear too by their vagueness and their one- 
sidedness to point to the same conclusions. The same 
remark applies to the perceptions of objects through the 
sense of touch. A child may get a total tactile appre- 
hension of an orange when one is placed in his hand, 
and yet have no clear apprehension of the roughness, 
softness and other qualities of the surface. 

Of course asking a child to give an account of an object is not con- 
clusive as showing that he has observed badly : his memory or his com- 
mand of language may be at fault. So the rudenesses and inaccuracies 
in children's draMrings may be due to want of technical resources, the 
ability to draw lines and to arrange these in the required way. Yet I 
believe that the facts show, after allowing for the action of other 
causes, a good deal of vagueness in ordinary childish perceptions. This 
is not inconsistent with the fact that in certain directions where in- 
terest is strong children's observation is often close and fine (see my 
Studies of Childhood, pp. 66 ff., and 393 ff.). 

From the rude implicit mode of apprehending form 
we may distinguish the explicit apprehension of form 
as a group of related parts. A child only obtains a 
clear cognition of the form of a human face when 
by separate acts of selective attention he analyses the 
whole form, inspecting this and that feature, noting 
their several forms and dimensions, as also their relations 
of place and magnitude or proportion one to the other. 
This methodical apprehension of form must of course be 



TRAINING IN THE OBSERVATION OF FORM. 199 

led up to gradually. Younger children should be en- 
couraged to inspect the forms of things for themselves, 
both with eye and with hand, and to find out all that 
they can before being taken on to the more regulated 
exercises. 

The more important principles which govern this early 
department of training appear to be the following: (1) 
A complete and perfectly distinct perception of form in- 
volves not merely passive sight and touch but the active 
movem.ents of eye and of hand. Hence the importance 
of fairly large outlines, which invite the eye to excur- 
sions. Hence, further, the great educational value of all 
manual constructive work. Such constructive work, 
whether in building a bridge with bricks, forming a 
square by sticks, or drawing a house or a duck, owes a 
part of its educative value to the fact that it translates 
what is seen (the model form) into a series of muscular 
movements, each of which issues in the production of 
a certain form -element. It thus secures in the most 
efficient way attention to details, and a clear analytic 
perception of the parts ; while by developing the complete 
form by gradual stages it supplies at the same time the 
conditions of a firm synthetic apprehension of these 
parts together, as related one to another and forming a 
whole. 

(2) The observation of form should be developed con- 
formably to the general laws of mental development. 
Thus it should pass from an indefinite and incomplete to 
a definite and complete stage. A child should first of all 
be led to see the general character of the form of a horse, 
or a bird, and then be taken on to observe the finer details. 
In like manner it should begin with the simple and then 



200 PEECEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

go on gradually to the complex. It would be absurd 
to set as an exercise to young children the examination 
of a highly complex form as presented in architecture, or 
in a mechanical contrivance. The kindergarten gifts and 
occupations clearly satisfy these conditions in general. 
Froebel in his methods of educating a child in the know- 
ledge of form recognised with a fine psychological insight 
the fundamental importance of touch, and the organic 
connection between the perception of form and the ex- 
pression of the idea of form by manual construction. 

Exercises in the apprehension and manual reproduc- 
tion of lines and what may be called abstract forms, 
such as the square, should be supplemented by a training 
of the observing faculty in the discernment of natural, 
and, generally, of concrete forms. From an early period 
a child is interesting himself in the forms of common 
objects round about him, such as animals and ships, 
and he should be exercised in a more close and exact 
observation of these more concrete forms. As we have 
seen, children naturally observe at first only the more 
salient features of an object, such as the tallness of the 
poplar, the long curve of the swan's neck; hence the 
educator has to correct these early defects and to prac- 
tise the observer in an impartial attention to all parts 
of the object, and to the minuter details of form. 

Here, again, the hand should be called in, in order 
to reproduce what is seen. It is by the well-known 
kindergarten occupations, such as clay-modelling, paper- 
folding and drawing, that the perceptions of form be- 
come clear and exact. Of these Drawing, as an exercise 
of special educational significance, claims a word or two 
here. 



EDUCATIONAL FUNCTION OF DEAWING. 201 

The child's spontaneous impulse to imitate nature by 
Drawinc: is one of the most valuable ones to the educa- 
tor.^ Along with such occupations as building with bricks 
and modelling, drawing involves no doubt a measure of 
abstraction, since it separates oif, so to speak, the visible 
aspect of form from the concrete tangible reality. Accord- 
ingly it is best taken up after some progress in these ex- 
ercises. The process of drawing, by compelling eye and 
hand together to reproduce the model-form, serves, in the 
way already explained, as the very best means of securing 
a full, detailed, explicit knowledge of all that is comprised 
in a form under its bi-dimensional or visual aspect. 

It follows that a child who has become skilful in 
drawing has not only acquired a useful manual art, but 
may be said to have more fully developed his power of 
seeing. 

The two sides of the training in the observation and 
manual reconstruction of form here distinguished should 
be carried on together, and be made to help one another. 
The superior interest of concrete forms, especially those 
of living things, makes it desirable to deal with the 
simpler of these in the earlier stages. A child of three 
will take pleasure in copying the drawing of a duck, but 
would hardly be able to give attention to the abstract 
form-elements, straight lines, etc.'^ Yet as soon as this 

' Froebel well illustrates the spontaneous tendency of a child after 
passing his fingers along the edges of a table to draw the forms {The 
Education of Man, § 36). The characteristics of children's spontaneous 
drawings are fully dealt with in my Studies of Childhood, chap. x. 

2 The desirability in the educational control of drawing of setting 
out with the concrete forms which children draw spontaneously is well 
urged by Mr. H. T. Lukens, in his " Study of Children's Drawings," 
Pedagogical Seminary, vol. iv. (1896), p. 79 fi. 



202 PERCEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

more abstract mode of attention is possible it should be 
required. In drawing a house, for example, a child 
should be led to note the inclination and length of the 
lines, the bluntness or sharpness of the angles, and so on. 
Even in dealing with the forms of living things, simple 
geometric schemes — as the oval for the body and the 
oval or triangle for the head of an animal — may with 
advantage be introduced as at once aiding the execution 
and giving explicit definiteness to the forms dealt with.^ 

The Principle of the Object-Lesson. Next to this 
exercise of a child's mind in a clear perception of form 
comes the training of it in the observation of objects as 
wholes, as made up of definite groups of qualities. The 
systematic development of this side of the training of 
the senses leads to the Object-lesson. By this is meant, 
strictly speaking, the presentment to a pupil or class of 
pupils of some object — whether natural substance, as a 
piece of coal, some organic structure, as a whole plant or 
part of the same, or, finally, some product of human 
industry, as a woven fabric — in such a way as to secure 
a detailed examination of its properties by the several 
senses. With this there commonly goes some exhibition 
of the capabilities and uses of the object, and some refer- 
ence to its origin and history. 

It is evident from this general description that the 
object-lesson aims directly and primarily at exercising a 
child in full and accurate observation by way of the 
several senses, and in the synthesising of such detailed ob- 
servations into a clear and adequate total observation. 
Hence it falls naturally into two parts : (1) the detailed 

1 On the educational principles underlying drawing, the student 
should consult H. Spencer, Educaticm, chap. ii. 



AIM OF THE OBJECT-LESSON. 203 

exposition and naming of the several parts, qualities, 
and relations of the object; and (2) the summing up of 
the results in a verbal description of the object. 

As a methodical training in a full and impartial ob- 
servation of objects, this form of instruction supplies a fit 
Introduction to the study of those physical sciences, such 
as botany, where accurate observation is the main thing. 
Its value under this aspect will obviously depend on the 
extent to which the observing powers of the class have 
been made use of. So-called object-lessons in which a 
thing or its model or picture is shown and then a verbal 
lesson on it unfolded cannot, it is evident, supply the 
methodical training of sense-observation just described. 

While, however, an object-lesson may thus be regarded 
as an exercise in pure observation, it alwaj^s includes 
other elements as well. It has been pointed out that 
the explicit mental grasp of the qualities and relations of 
an object implies a certain amount of thought-activity. 
It exercises a child's mind in analysis and what is called 
" abstraction," processes to be dealt with at a later stage. 
Not only so, a clear mental apprehension of the qualities 
of an object involves a juxtaposition of the object with 
other objects, and a process of comparison. This 
applies with special force to the explicit apprehension of 
one of two opposite or contrasting qualities, e.g., heavy 
and light, transparent and opaque, agreeably to the well- 
known logical dictum that the knowledge of opposites is 
one. 

It follows that the object-lesson is preparatory to 
scientific study in more ways than one. Thus it requires 
something of that analysis of objects, of that separate or 
abstract consideration of their several qualities, relations 



204 PERCEPTION THEOUGH THE SENSES. 

of form, etc., which gives to scientific investigation its 
clearness and exactness. Again, it may be made to in- 
clude the beginnings of scientific Classification and De- 
finition, In a good object-lesson, say on a leaf, a step is 
taken towards a general conception of the class " leaf,'" 
and a definition of the common structure and function of 
leaves. 

The object-lesson, properly so called, aims primarily 
and mainly at the training of the observing powers 
themselves in a clear mental apprehension of the par- 
ticular qualities and relations of this individual object. 
It only indirectly seeks to develop as an after-result 
clear ideas about things. Its purpose is realised when 
the object has been accurately inspected by the methodi- 
cal analytical process explained above, and its several 
properties and relations clearly apprehended. In this 
respect it is marked off" from all appeals to the senses 
which are intended to subserve directly the better imagi- 
nation and understanding of subjects that are being 
dealt with at the time largely by way of verbal instruc- 
tion. Such appeals to the senses have a high educa- 
tional value, and ought indeed to be made through all 
the stages of instruction. Thus a geographical description 
is made real, that is to say, the country described is far 
better imagined, after a look at a good model or a good 
map. 

While the teacher may thus do something towards 
training a child's powers of observation, it is not to be 
forgotten, however, that the most efficient way of develop- 
ing them lies outside the range of the recognised school 
exercises. A habit of close and exact observation of 
nature is best acquired in friendly association with, and 



RELATION OF SCHOOL TO OBSERVATION. 205 

through the sympathetic spell and guidance of, an ob- 
servant parent or tutor in hours of leisure. A walk 
in the country or a visit to a museum or a picture 
gallery with a good observer, with whom the pupil 
is in sympathetic rapport, will probably do more in 
awaking interest and in exciting the mind to close and 
accurate observation than the most elaborate school 
exercise. The training of the observing powers is in- 
deed that part of intellectual education that most requires 
the aid of other educators than the schoolmaster. And 
one evil resulting from our modern aggregation into big 
towns, and the growing demands of our schools on the 
time and the energies of children, is that so little oppor- 
tunity and capability remain for those half-spontaneous 
beginnings in the observation of nature, the noting more 
especially of the forms and colours, together with the 
modes of movement, of living things, which supply the 
best exercise in careful observation during the years of 
childhood, or for those more active occupations, such as 
collecting birds' eggs, insects ar^d the like, which, while 
half-spontaneous and growing out of the boyish love of 
roaming and exploring, are the beginning of a truly 
scientific interest in natural objects. 

Just as perception by methodical training can be 
developed into this clear grasp of qualities and relations, 
so can recognition. In truth, the methodical object- 
lesson should be followed up by a series of exercises in 
explicit recognition, that is recognition by a clear appre- 
hension of decisive marks or " criteria ". The amount of 
mental activity thrown into the first observation will bo 
tested by the readiness and accuracy of the recognition 
and the ability to pick out and describe the marks by 



206 PERCEPTION THROUGH THE SENSES. 

which the recognition has been carried out. This applies 
both to the identification of one object, say a particular 
fossil, and to that wider recognition of class-membership 
or classification which grows out of observation, say, the 
recognition of a new specimen of a class of fossil. 

REFERENCES FOR READING. 

A fuller account of the process of Sense-perception may be obtained 
from the following : Sully, Outlines of Psychology, chap. vii. (or the 
corresponding chapter in The Himian Mind) ; J. Ward, article " Psy- 
chology " in the Encyclopcedia Britannica (9th ed.), "Perception," p. 
51 ff. ; W. James, Psychology, chaps, xx. and xxi. ; and E. B. 
Titchener, Outline of Psychology, pt. ii., chap, vii., §§ 43-46. The 
explicit form of Perception (" Perception of relations ") is specially 
dealt with by Lloyd Morgan, Psychology for Teachers, chap. iv. 

The early developments of perception are traced out by W. Preyer, 
The Senses and the Will, pt. i. ; B. Perez, First Three Years of Child- 
hood, chap, iii., sect. ii. ; and G. Compayre, Intellectual and Moral 
Evolution of the Child, chaps, iii. and iv. 

The bearings of principles on the training of the senses and the ob- 
serving powers are discussed by H. Spencer, Education, chap. ii. ; A. 
Bain, Education as a Science, chap, iii., " Discrimination," p. 15 ff., 
and chap, viii., " The Object-Lesson," p. 247 ff. ; G. Compayre, 
Psychology applied to Education, chap. iv. The reader of German 
may further consult : Waitz, Allgemeine Pddagogik, " Die Bildung der 
Anschauung " (§§ 7-10), and the article " Anschaulichkeit " in Reins 
Encyclop. Handhuch der Pdiagogik^ 



CHAPTER IX. 

EEPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Process of Reproduction. The senses are the source of 
all our knowledge about external things, viz., their several 
qualities, their local relations, their movements, and so 
forth. Yet it is evident that if we could only observe 
objects by way of the senses we should gain no genuine 
knowledge. Perception is a temporary and uncertain 
phenomenon depending on the actual presence of an 
object to the senses : true knowledge of things is an en- 
during possession, which we can make use of at any 
time, whether the objects are before us or not. 

This persistence of the " impressions " ^ which objects 
make on our minds through the senses is commonly 
ascribed to a fundamental property or functional aspect 
of mind, viz., Retentiveness. This property, as was 
pointed out in an earlier chapter, is connected with a 
supposed physiological property, viz., the setting up in the 
various structures of the brain of permanent " functional 
dispositions " corresponding to their respective modes of 

^ The term impression or sense-impression as used in this chapter 
must be understood to mean the whole sense-presentation, as, for 
example, the total visual phenomenon making up the appearance of an 
orange. Also, unless otherwise stated, the term implies the reaction 
of the mind on the sense-material and the development of a complete 
percept. 



208 BEPKODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

activity. Thus the particular kind of activity of the 
visual centres involved in looking at an object, say a 
person's face, leaves as its after-result a lasting " trace " in 
the shape of a " psycho-physical disposition " or tendency 
to renewed action, which, when favourable conditions 
(to be specified presently) are added, may result in the 
recalling of the impression, or, to speak more scientifically^ 
in the appearance in consciousness of a memory-image of 
the object (compare above, pp. 68, 74).^ 

This setting up, by means of the repeated action of 
sense-stimuli, of a later independent activity in the brain 
is strikingly illustrated in the case of one who, like Milton 
after he became blind, or Beethoven after he became 
deaf, has lost a particular sense and yet is able to go on 
having vivid and distinct memory-images corresponding 
to the lost group of percepts. 

It must be clearly understood that the name retentive- 
ness is merely a convenient way of describing the fact 
that after the occurrence of sense-percepts memory- 
images tend to arise. All our talk about lasting im- 
pressions stored away in the mind is highly figurative, 
and apt to mislead. Our minds are not material objects 
like boxes, capable of receiving and holding things. 
We know nothing of mind save its several functional 
activities. The word retention has no meaning save in 
relation to the processes of reproduction, that is, the 
emergence in consciousness of memory-images. 

Representative Images. Whenever we recall what 

' It is a question wliether the memory-image involves merely a new 
mode of activity of the same nerve-centres that wexe engaged in sense- 
perception, or whether it presupposes the development of higher nervous 
structures closely connected with the perceptional centres. 



PROCESS OF REPRODUCTION. 209 

is no longer present to the senses the process is called 
Reproductive Imagination, since we have a mental 
image/ which may be said to reproduce in an altered 
form the original percept. It is also spoken of as 
Representation, i.e., the re-presenting of what was before 
presented, and the mental image by means of which we 
carry out this representation is called a representative 
image. Thus in recalling the look of our absent home 
or of our friend we may be said to see with the 
''mind's eye" the object we originally saw with the 
bodily eye. 

In thus speaking of reproductive and representative 
imagination we must not be led into the error of think- 
ing that a memory-image is a complete pictorial copy 
of a sense-percept. It does no doubt serve to call up a 
kind of pictorial substitute for the original sense-pre- 
sentation. When we picture a beautiful old mansion 
that we have lately visited we represent it as it actually 
presented itself to our eyes, with its proper shape and 
style of architecture, its colouring and surroundings. 
Yet our images are as a rule much less complete and dis- 
tinct than our percepts. In recalling, for example, the 
face of an old friend we do not ordinarily represent in 
sharp distinctness all its features as they would actually 
appear to us if the person were present. Indeed, the 
researches of Mr. F. Galton as to people's power of 
" visualising," i.e., calling up distinct and complete mental 
pictures of familiar objects, go to show that very few of 
us have the power of fully and distinctly imaging even 

' The reader should note that although the word (mental) image 
refers most naturally to visual or pictorial representation, it includes 
other representations, such as that of a tune. 
15 



210 REPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

SO well known an object as our breakfast-table, with all 
its details, including their colours as well as their forms. 

As was pointed out in the last chapter, an element of 
representation, of a vague character at least, enters into 
the process of perception itself. In looking at a spherical 
body, say a cannon-ball, we are reproducing more or less 
distinctly certain tactile experiences. And in the fuller 
process of recognition, as when we discern our house, 
or a friend's figure, we are recalling something at least 
of our past percepts of this object. In this case, how- 
ever, we have to do with only a rudimentary process 
of reproduction. In recognising a friend I do not dis- 
tinctly call up an image of his appearance when I saw 
him before. All that really takes place is the occur- 
rence of a sense-percept, with the added sense of famili- 
arity, i.e., the consciousness of having had a like percept 
before. 

The representative image only takes on a distinct 
and complete character when neither the object re- 
presented, nor one closely resembling this, is present to 
our senses. Here imagination or ideation becomes 
detached, so to speak, from sense-presentation. In 
imaging a country-scene when sitting in a room in a 
London house looking out on nothing but houses, cabs, 
and the like, I mentally realise my object wholly by means 
of a representative image. 

This region of pure representation answers to the 
more important part of what we commonly call Memor}^ 
To remember, in the complete sense of the word, is to be 
able to represent an object or an event by means of a 
memory -image or a succession of such images. In acquir- 
ing any knowledge, e.g., that of the appearance of an ob- 



RILPEESENTATIVE IMAGES. 211 

ject, of the name of a thing, of a tune, or of a historical 
fact, we have to develop clear and easily revived repre- 
sentative images. In learning through the medium of 
verbal instruction, whether oral or written, a child has to 
develop certain images or " ideas " by processes to be 
considered presently ; and these ideas have to be made 
persistent, that is, recurrent. Even the more abstract 
kind of knowledge, say that of grammar, has to be per- 
manently retained by means of such recurring repre- 
sentations, in which verbal images (images of words) 
play a prominent part. The understanding of the nature 
of the processes of reproduction is thus seen to be a 
matter of special interest to the educator. 

Conditions of Reproduction. The most general 
condition of Reproduction is a certain degree of recency 
of the original impression. We readily call up an image 
of an object presented in the adjacent past, such as 
that of the appearance and the voice of the person we 
have just been speaking with. After longer intervals of 
time our sense-presentations are,, as a rule, less easily 
recalled. The longer the interval between the presenta- 
tion and the representation, the less distinct in general 
will be the image. The series of images of verbal sounds 
and articulatory movements answering to certain lines of 
poetry which a child can call up a few minutes after 
repeating these lines aloud will grow indistinct, if reviv- 
able at all, after an hour or a day. The scenes and the 
experiences of our remote past are for the greater part 
lost to us. 

Coming now to more special conditions, we may say 
that the capability of representing an object some time 
after it has been perceived depends on two chief circum- 



212 KEPKODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

stances. In the first place, a sense-presentation must 
attain a certain degree of psychical force or " impressive- 
ness ". This circumstance may be described, figuratively, 
as the depth of the original impression, or, more accurately, 
as its dynamic character when it became a new element 
in consciousness.^ In the second place, there is needed 
the presence of something, either a sense-presentation or 
the corresponding image, to " remind " us of the object 
or to suggest it to our minds. This second circumstance 
is known as the force of Suggestion. 

(a) Depth of Impression : Attention and Re- 
tention, In the first place (assuming that there has 
been only a single perception of an object) we may say 
that a distinct image presupposes a degree of perfec- 
tion in the original percept. This again means, first of 
all, a certain sufficiency of sense-material. Thus the 
appearance of an object properly illumined and favour- 
ably placed for distinct and complete perception will 
be recalled better than a presentation wanting in these 
advantages, such as that of an object indistinctly seen. 
The perception of a chalk diagram on the blackboard has 
its dynamic character raised by the contrast between the 
whiteness and the black background. For a like reason 
actual sense-presentations have in general more " im- 
pressiveness " than the products of imagination. It is 
a familiar fact that children will recall the appearance 
of a place they have seen better than one that they 

^ The student must beware here of the misleading suggestions of 
popular language. The mind is not a material substance like wax, 
capable of receiving the " stamp " of an external object. As we have 
seen, the mind is active in perception, and may be said to construct ita 
percepts. 



ATTENTION AND KEPEODUCTION. 213 

have merely had described to them. The favourable 
effect on memory of repeating words audibly (as com- 
pared with doing so inaudibly) is explained by this 
principle ; in fully articulating them we obtain the ad- 
vantage of the actual sense-presentations, both those of 
the sounds and those of the articulatory movements. 

The depth of an impression is, however, determined 
not merely by these external conditions but by the atti- 
tude of the mind in relation to it. If our minds are pre- 
occupied, even a powerful sense-impression, such as that 
of a costermonger's cry in the street hard by, may fail to 
develop afterwards a distinct image. Hence under the 
dynamic character of impressions we must include as a 
second and even more important condition the degree of 
interest excited by a sense-presentation and the corre- 
sponding closeness or intensity of the act of attention. 
This principle is strikingly illustrated in the effects of 
strong feeling, whether agreeable or disagreeable. When 
a boy on receiving sense-presentations is deeply affected 
by feeling, as in listening to an exciting story or in 
watching a cricket match, he will afterwards remember 
distinctly. Such intensity of feeling by securing an ex- 
ceptionally vivid interest and close attention ensures an 
unusually full play of the intellectual functions. Thus, 
the boy deeply interested in watching a cricket match 
discriminates the several individual players, their places 
in the field, the characteristics of their play, etc. It 
seems to be generally allowed that this fineness of the 
discriminative process is one of the most important de- 
termining elements in the " retention of impressions ". 

The interest determining the force of attention may, 
as we have seen, arise directly out of some stimulative 



214 KEPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

aspect of the object, as the novelty or oddity of a person's 
dress, or out of its relation to our previous presentations, 
as when a child listens to talk about nurse, or about 
himself. A pleasurable feeling of moderate intensity 
immediately excited by the perception itself appears to 
be the state of mind most favourable to a mastery, at 
once quiet and enjoyable, of what is presented. Here, 
again, the boy observer in the cricket field (who is not 
too excited by partisanship) may serve as an illustration. 
It is the state of mind which the wise teacher seeks 
to produce in his pupils' minds. 

Finally, it is to be observed that our minds are not 
always in an equally favourable state for the *' taking 
on " of new impressions. The probability of the re- 
tention of a clear mental image varies directly with 
the degree of mental or cerebral vigour at the time 
of the presentation. A well-recuperated condition of 
the brain, such as is realised after a period of repose, 
is highly favourable to a " deep " or lasting impres- 
sion.^ 

Repetition and Retention. We have so far assumed 
that the mental image produced is the result of a single 
sense-presentation. Yet one presentation rarely suf- 
fices for a lasting retention. Since every impression 
tends to lose its effect after a time, our images require to 
be re-invigorated by new or repeated presentations of 
the object. Most of the events of our life, the places we 
have seen once and hurriedly, the talk of our friends, 
and so on, are forgotten just because the presentations 

^ Professor Bain considers that the acquisition of new impressions 
is of all forms of intellectual activity that which involves the largest 
consumption of brain-force {Education as a Science, p. 23). 



' EEPETITION AND REPRODUCTION. 215 

never recur in a precisely similar form, and so get no 
support from repetition. Here, then, we arrive at a 
second main circumstance determining tlie memory-pro- 
ducts of our sense-presentations. Our images tend to 
grow, in distinctness, completeness, and in readiness 
to appear, with the number of repetitions of the 
sense-presentations. Where the repetition of the pre- 
sentation itself is impossible, the renewed reproduc- 
tion of it may serve, even though less effectually, to 
bring about the same result. Thus by recalling in talk 
with a friend some experience in wdiich we have shared, 
the memory-images are kept alive. Repeating verses 
inaudibly helps to some extent to preserve the memory 
of them. 

Such repetitions in order to be effectual must be suffi- 
ciently close together in time, or frequent. In learning 
a new language we may look up in a dictionary an un- 
common or rarely occurring word a considerable number 
of times and yet fail to gain a firm hold on it, just 
because the repetitions are not frequent enough ; whereas 
if the word is an oft-recurring one a smaller number of 
references to the dictionary will suffice. This is only 
one case of the importance of recency of impressions. 
The memory-elTects of single presentations tend after a 
little time to fade away, so that the reinforcing aid of 
new presentations is needed. The process may be 
likened to that of damming a stream with stones. It is 
only when we throw in the stones with sufficient rapidity 
that we have a chance of establishino- a barrier. After a 
sufficient amount of repetition, other circumstances 
being favourable, the image, like the dam, becomes set, 
80 to speak. 



216 KEPEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

While repetition is thus an important condition of retention, its 
importance can easily be over-rated. Each new repetition of a sense- 
presentation does not produce the same advantageous effect. Eecent 
experiments have shown that in memorising verbal material, such 
as a series of nonsense-syllables, the first repetition effects more than 
any subsequent one. 

These two conditions, interest and repetition, take the 
place of one another to a certain extent. The more 
interesting an impression the fewer the repetitions neces- 
sary to get it permanently set. This is illustrated in the 
words of Juliet on hearing Romeo's voice :— 

" My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words 

Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound ". 

On the other hand, the more frequently an impression 
recurs the less will be the degree of interest required for 
producing the desired memory- effect. As has been 
humorously observed, even matters of such little interest 
to us as the fact that " Mr. G. sells Eureka shirts" stamp 
themselves on our memory after they have been re- 
peatedly forced on our attention by a sufficient pro- 
fusion of advertisements. 

Nevertheless it remains true in general that for the 
development of clear images both interesting presenta- 
tions and a certain frequency of repetition of these are 
necessary. This certainly applies to the larger part of 
school acquisitions. In the case of most children, at 
any rate, interest in the forms of words, and even in 
geographical and other facts, is rarely so keen as to 
allow the teacher to dispense wholly with the valuable 
auxiliary of repetition. On the other hand, no number 
of repetitions of a lesson will avail if the pupil takes no 
interest in the subject, and his thoughts warider. To 



CO-OPERATION OF ATTENTION AND REPETITION. 217 

this it may be added that a mechanical repetition of any 
subject-matter, without any variation of form or mode of 
illustration, tends to repel the mind, drying up the springs 
of interest, and inducing an inattentive, sleepy condition 
of mind highly unfavourable to retention. 

(6) Suggestion of Images, and its Conditions. 
When an impression has, with the aid of the above 
favourable conditions, been well fixed in the mind there 
remains a psycho-physical disposition or tendency to a 
conscious revival of it under the new form of an image. 
Having, for example, gone to Kew Gardens and made a 
careful observation of some tropical plant my psycho- 
physical organism may be said to have become capable of 
producing an image of this plant. The degree of per- 
fection with which we represent any object depends 
ultimately on the strength of this disposition. Yet the 
mere disposition will not of itself suffice to bring about 
(after a certain time has elapsed) a distinct memory- 
image. There is needed further the presence in con- 
sciousness of some other presentation or image which 
suggests the image. Thus the sight of a place on a second 
visit reminds us of some interesting occurrence which 
happened there during the first visit. The reason why 
we forget so many incidents of our past life, including 
those dream-experiences which are wont at the moment 
to be so deeply interesting, is that there is nothing in our 
present surroundings which is fitted to excite the corre- 
sponding images. 

In the illustration just given the suggestion is seen to 
be the result of association. The renewed presentation 
of a particular locality calls up the image of the event, 
because in the original experience place and occurrence 



218 BEPEODUCTIVB IMAGINATION. 

were presented together and became mentally connected 
or associated. In order to understand the process of 
suggestion we must therefore make a somewhat closer 
study of this connective work of association. 

LAWS OF SUGGESTION. 

(I.) Suggestion as the Result of Association : 
Law of Contiguity. The process of Association has 
already been touched on in connection with sense-percep- 
tion. There, however, we had to do with the organising 
of a mass of sensation and representative element into the 
unity of a percept. Here we must study the " associa- 
tion of ideas," as it has been called, that is, the process 
by which the separated wholes which we call images of 
things are introduced into consciousness. 

The principle whose working we have to examine is 
commonly known as that of " contiguous association " or 
Association by Contiguity. By the name contiguity is 
here meant that the mental connection established is 
based on the nearness or adjacency in time of the 
original presentations. The Law of Contiguity may be 
stated briefly as follows : Presentations and, more gene- 
rally, experiences, which occur together, or in immediate 
succession, will afterwards tend to suggest one another 
under the form of m^emory -images} 

This Law of Association has, as already pointed out, its 
physiological basis. In many cases, at least, we know 
that the associative connection of presentations, e.g., 

^ The introduction of the more comprehensive term " experiences " 
here is intended to show that our feelings and actions, as well as our 
intellectual presentations, are subject to this law. This will be illus- 
trated later on. 



ASSOCIATION BY CONTIGUITY. 219 

that of the sound and the articulatory movement which 
enter into speech, involves the formation of nervous 
paths of connection by way of the so-called associative 
tibres in the brain. The fact that associations are so 
much more readily built up in the early years of life 
illustrates this dependence of association on the growth 
of nervous connections (compare above, p. 35). 

The principle of Contiguous Association is illustrated 
throughout the process of acquiring knowledge, whether 
from the direct inspection of things or by way of others' 
instruction. So universal is its action that it is difficult 
to select illustrations. 

We may bring the more important varieties of con- 
tiguous association under the following heads : (1) First 
of all, we have simple and obvious cases of time-connec- 
tion, that is to say, the effect of simultaneity or close 
succession among presentations and experiences; e.g., 
the association of the sight of a bell swinging with its 
sound, of the shining of the sun with the feeling of 
warmth, of one bit of a tune with the preceding and the 
succeeding bit. Among these successions one important 
class is that of the recurring . sequences which make 
known to us the connection of events as causes and 
effects. Thus a child comes to know that the sun warms, 
that rain wets, that hard bodies hurt, that his own actions 
remove obstacles, and so forth, by noting how certain 
experiences regularly follow their proper antecedents. 

(2) Another group may be described as object- associa- 
tions, viz., the association of objects with their less 
obvious properties and their uses. A child by repeated 
experiments learns to connect the properties of divisi- 
bility and combustibility with wood, the property of 



220 EEPEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

transparency with glass, the characteristic modulations 
of voice, the gestures, etc., 'of a person with the sight 
of this person, the pleasure of throwing and rolling 
a ball with the appearance of the ball, and so forth. 

(3) Our next group of connections consists of local 
associations or associations of place. These play an 
important part in memory. They include (a) connec- 
tions of objects with places, e.g., the canary with its cage, 
say, near the window, cowslips with the fields, books, 
toys, and the like with the places where they are put 
away and kept ; (6) of events with places, such as the meal, 
the lesson, and so forth, with the room in which they 
take place ; and (c) objects and features of the environ- 
ment with others which are contiguous in place, e.g., the 
sea with the sandy shore, a bridge with the river it 
crosses, one house or street with the adjacent one. 

(4) A class of connections deserving especial mention 
is that of Verbal Associations. By this expression is 
meant the connecting of names and words generally with 
their meanings (ideas of objects, qualities, relations) and 
the linking on of one word to another in a verbal series, 
as in learning to say " one man," " two men," as also in 
committing verses and the like to memory. 

Although it may be convenient thus to distinguish different groups 
of association, the student must note that they all alike rest upon con- 
tiguity or adjacency in time. Thus the glass and the fact of its trans- 
parency are seen together at the same moment : similarly the sight of 
a person and the characteristic sounds of his voice ar'e presented to- 
gether, and the child's attention is directed to each in rapid sequence. 
Associations of place, again, e.g., the cage and the window, are based 
upon the fact that the two form parts of one single complex presenta- 
tion of sight, and that the attention can pass directly from one to the 
other. In like manner the child learns the meaning of a name by 
hearing it used at the same time that the object is presented. 



VARIETIES OF ASSOCIATION. 221 

It is easy to see that all learning in the teacher's sense 
of the word illustrates the same law. Thus in an object- 
lesson a child has to associate the mode of production of 
a substance (e.g., coal) and its uses with the object. Again, 
in learning about distant places and about the past his- 
tory of his country, he has to build up, by a process of 
imaginative juxtaposition or construction, to be explained 
by-and-by, associations between things and events like 
those he builds up in the course of his daily observations. 
Since, moreover, school-learning proceeds very largely by 
aid of verbal associations, e.g., in acquiring the names of 
things, in fitting a French word to its English equiva- 
lent, in all verbal memorising of rules and the like, it is 
apparent that this class of association plays a large part 
in the work of instruction. 

Strength of Associative Cohesion. The Law of 
Contiguity speaks of a tendency to call up or suggest. 
This expression implies that the suggestion does not 
always take place even when the suggestive presentation 
or idea is present, and that in some cases the revival or 
reinstatement is much more prompt than in others.. We 
may easily see by observation that this is so. Thus we 
sometimes meet a person we know and do not recall his 
name, or only succeed in doing so after a prolonged 
effort. In other cases, again, the reinstatement of the 
idea is certain and rapid, as when a familiar word in 
one's native tongue, e.g., " father," calls up the image of 
the object which it symbolises. In certain cases, indeed, 
the revival is so rapid that the mind is hardly aware of 
a transition to a second separate idea. This applies to 
the ideas called up by thoroughly familiar names, the 
representation of feelings called up by the presenta- 



222 REPEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

tions of the cries, facial movements, etc., which express 
the feelings. We describe these facts by saying that 
there are different degrees of associative cohesion among 
our ideas. 

On what the Strength of Associative Suggestion 
Depends. The strength of the associative bond depends 
in all cases alike on the same circumstances that we 
found governing the persistence of impressions regarded 
as single or apart. These are (1) the amount of attention 
given to the presentations w^hen they occur together • 
and (2) the frequency of their conjoint occurrence or 
*' co-presentation ". 

The first condition is illustrated when a child is greatly 
interested in the appearance of a stranger, and notes at 
the same time something peculiar in his name. In such 
a case he in a manner makes one presentation of them, 
so that the recurrence of either subsequently at once 
suggests the image of the other. The same thing is seen 
when in hearing a lesson in geography or history 
children are called on to give special attention to rela- 
tions of place or time, such as the situation of a town on 
a particular river, the occurrence of an event in a par- 
ticular reign. The greater the force of attention thus 
directed to two or more things in their relations each 
to each the firmer will be the resulting association. ^ 

In certain cases where the experiences and their 
occurrence together are of exceptional interest, a single 
co-presentation may suffice to produce a firm associa- 
tion. This applies to experiences having a marked 
" feeling-tone," as when a child connects the pain of 

^ On the nature and conditions of this comprehensive attention to a 
plurality of things in their relations, see above, p. 143. 



STEENGTH OF ASSOCIATIVE CONNECTION. 223 

being burnt with the fire. In ordinary cases, how- 
ever, repetition is necessary to fix associations, as we have 
seen it to be necessary for developing distinct single 
memory- images. All our enduring knowledge about the 
things around us, the varying phases of earth and sky, 
the locality we live in, our human surroundings, and so 
forth, involves frequently repeated co-presentations. 
A child's association of flowers with their respec- 
tive scents, of warmth with the sun, of a meal with 
its proper hour, is the result of many contiguous or co- 
adjacent experiences. The more frequent the conjunction 
of any two presentations in our daily experiences, the 
stronger the resulting bond of association. The pecu- 
liarly close associations already alluded to, such as those 
between words and the ideas they signify, the sounds of 
words and the articulatory movements required for pro- 
ducing them, are the result of innumerable conjunctions 
extending throughout life. 

Trains of Images : Verbal Series. All that has 
been said respecting a pair of presentations and the re- 
sulting representations applies also to a whole series. A 
large number of our ideas are made up of trains of images 
answering to recurring and oft- repeated series of ex- 
periences. Our knowledge of a country through which 
we have travelled, of a tune, of a poem, as well as that 
of the way to do things, for example, to dress ourselves, 
or to write, involves a train of representations answering 
to the series of presentations, visual, auditory, and motor, 
which constituted the original series of experiences. 

The fixing of such a train depends on a definite series 
of " movements of attention," and a due repetition of the 
series. Thus in learning a poem by heart we carry on 



224 EEPEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION". 

attention from one word to another in due order, and 
by repeating this series of movements of attention again 
and again we are able on hearing the first words to re- 
call, i.e., represent, the succeeding words. As we all 
know, the efiect of many repetitions is to make the pro- 
cess of reproduction semi-conscious and automatic. A 
child repeats a very familiar verse like a machine, i.e., with 
but very little attention to the several steps of the process. 

That the particular order of the movements of attention 
produces its efiect on the retention is seen in the fact 
that in recalling any series, e.g., a succession of events, or 
of words, our minds can move in the forward order much 
better than in the reverse order. Most children know 
the difficulty of saying the alphabet backwards. 

It has been found by experiment that in recalling the 
members of such a verbal or other train suggestive force 
is exercised not only by the immediately preceding mem- 
ber of the series but in a less degree by remote members. 
Thus in saying, " One, two, three, four," the word " four " 
is suggested not only by " three," but in a less degree by 
" two," and in a still less degree by " one ". It follows 
that in repeating a verse from memory the first words of 
the second line are called up by the whole group of 
words of the first line. It is further ascertained that 
whenever such trains fall into a rhythmical form, as in 
the case of verses, tunes, and the like, we are greatly 
aided in recalling successive portions of the series by re- 
producing first of all the rhythmical form. This may be 
illustrated in recalling a long name, where we are apt to 
remember the number of syllables, the distribution of 
stress and the rise and fall of vocal pitch, before we dis- 
tinctly recover the several articulate sounds themselves. 



VERBAL SERIES. 225 

In many of the trains here referred to we have to do 
vvith complex members, and so with a more complicated 
process of Association. This can be best illustrated by 
the case of verbal series. A word is itself, apart from 
its meaning, a complex presentation. The first step in 
learning to speak, is the linking on of a definite variety 
of articulatory movement to its appropriate auditory 
impression, the verbal sound. Later on, when the child 
learns to read, he combines with this associated couple 
the visual symbol, viz., the printed word. Finallj^, in 
learning to write, new associations are built up between 
definite groups of finger, hand or arm movements and 
the corresponding visual symbols. 

With this complexity of the word itself there goes the 
further complexity of the union of the word as a whole 
with its corresponding idea or meaning. Learning to 
speak, to read, and to write plainly includes this further 
connection between the word symbol and its meaning. 

These complexes of ideas embodied in words are 
capable of becoming associated in definite series, and it is 
very largely by the aid of such series that our knowledge 
of things in their order of time and of place is retained. 
This applies even to what a child himself observes, 
for it is by describing in words what he has seen that he 
gives definite form and durability to his memory-series. 
And it applies still more evidently to all the knowledge 
which is gained by way of others' instruction. Here the 
facts are presented to the learner through the medium of 
language, which thus naturally comes to be taken up into 
the whole acquisition, and it is by this definite fixing of 
ideas in a verbal series that they are firmly held together, 
and can be readily recalled when they are needed. 
16 



226 REPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

(11.) The Mutual Suggestion of Similars. Memory- 
images are suggested not merely according to the law of 
Contiguous Association, that is, on the ground of the 
CO -adjacency of the original presentations in time. A 
presentation will sometimes call up the image of a like 
presentation rather than of a previously associated one. 
Thus the face or the voice of a stranger may suggest by 
its " resemblance," as we say, another and familiar one ; 
a word in a foreign language carries on the mind to a 
similar word in our own language, and so forth. This 
process of suggestion by similars is sometimes referred 
to as a " law of association " ; but properly speaking there 
is no " association " in the case.^ It is best described as 
suggestion by similars. Its law may be stated thus : 
Presentations and experiences tend to call up images of 
previous presentations and experiences which resemble 
them in one or more respects, the suggestive force in- 
creasing with the closeness of the resemblance and the 
number of points of similarity. 

This process of reproduction is clearly related to the 
assimilation of presentations already considered (see 
above, p. 172). Each process involves the working of the 
assimilative function of intellect. At the same time 
there is a difterence between the two. In recognising an 
object which we now see there is no distinct calling up 
of an image of the previous presentation. But when a 
line of poetry makes me think of another and similar 
line the image of this last is present along with the 

^ That is to say, not until the similar idea has been called up. 
When it is " revived " it may be said to become associated by the fact 
that it is now beforo the mind in juxtaposition with the presentation 
or idea which sugg*^^*^'^'^ i*- 



SUGGESTION OF SIMILARS. 227 

other and new presentation. In other words, suggestion 
by similars is a true process of image-revival.^ 

Association proper (Law of Contiguity) and Sug- 
gestion by Similars work in different directions. The 
former connects for our thought objects, events, words, 
and so forth which present themselves together in our 
experience. The suggestive force of similarity on the 
other hand brings together in consciousness the ideas of 
objects and events which may be widely remote in space 
and time. A face seen to-day in a London crowd may 
remind a traveller of another seen many years ago in 
the heart of the African desert. 

This revival of similars, as a mode of assimilatins: the 
new to the old, frequently takes part in what is called 
Apperception. A child, almost as soon as he begins to 
use words, brings the new object which presents itself into 
a relation to what he knows already. That is to say, the 
new presentation recalls by suggestion of similars the 
familiar one. Thus one child on first seeing snow fall 
exclaimed, "Look at the white smuts ". It is the same 
with the acquisition of new knowledge, by way of books 
and teachers. If everything we had to learn were abso- 
lutely new, presenting no points of kinship with what 
we already know, we should be unable to assimilate it in 
the sense of completely grasping and understanding it ; 
for, as we shall see, to comprehend a thing is to classify 
it with other like things. A child " takes in," that is, 
makes his own, the new presentation or idea, say the 
form of the tiger in the cage, the picture of the Princes 

^ There is, of course, an intermediate case where a presentation, say 
the face of a stranger, reminds me vaguely of some familiar face, 
though no distinct representation of this last is recalled. 



228 REPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

in the Tower, by recalling and applying ideas of familiar 
objects and experiences. 

Again, without this support from the similarities of 
things the labour of committing to memory would be in- 
supportable. When a boy or a girl comes to study a 
new language the similarities between its word-forms 
and those of the mother-tongue very greatly shorten the 
labour. Thus when the French cafe is seen as having a 
strong family likeness to coffee, or the German Huncl to 
hound, its meaning is at once fixed, without the need of 
the repetitions required for contiguous association. The 
new acquisition is permanently retained by becoming 
attached by a bond of similarity to a pre-existing group 
of acquisitions. 

It is to be noted, further, that every discovery in new 
presentations of a similarity to what is already familiar 
is accompanied by a feeling of pleasurable elation. To 
assimilate the new and strange to the old by some point 
or points of kinship is to rise above the unpleasant feel- 
ing of strangeness. Children show in their expression 
that the bringing of new objects and ideas into some re- 
lation of likeness to old ones gives an intense feeling of 
relief and satisfaction. And this feeling-accompaniment 
serves to give to the subsequent mental connection be- 
tween the similar thing's much of its firmness. 

(III.) Suggestion of Contrast. In addition to the 
suggestion of Similarity psychologists sometimes speak 
of Contrast as a distinct principle of suggestion. By this 
is meant that a presentation (or idea) tends to call up the 
image of its opposite or contrast. Thus it is said that 
black suggests white ; poverty, wealth ; a fiat country., 
a mountainous, and so forth. 



SUGGESTION OF CONTKAST> 229 

It is now generally held, however, that contrast is not 
a fundamental principle of suggestion, as is similarity. 
The mental connections built up between contrasting 
ideas may be explained as the result of other principles. 
{a) To begin with, we must remember that all knowledge 
commences, as we have seen, with a discrimination of pre- 
sentations. At the first a child discriminates between 
impressions of the same kind which are widely unlike, 
that is to say, which form a contrast, as, for example, 
light and dark, sweet and sour, a big, grown-up person and 
a little child. This is illustrated in the fact that children 
when they begin to describe in words what they see are 
apt to use expressions of this kind, " This a clean plate, 
not a dirty plate," showing that at first they distinctly 
attend to contrasts.^ This habit would in itself tend to 
build up in the child's mind a number of associations 
between contrasting things. 

(6) The presentation of a relation of contrast between 
things is in itself impressive, and by attracting a child's 
attention leads to a lasting association of the ideas. If 
you want to fix an impression on a child's mind you 
cannot do better than put it in juxtaposition with a 
strongly contrasting impression. This is one of the most 
valuable principles in teaching. To bring out a striking 
contrast between two contiguous countries or between 
two consecutive reigns in English history is to do much 
to fix an association between the two in the learner's mind. 

The unexpected and exceptional character of a presentation pro- 
duces a closely analogous effect : we contrast an occurrence with the 
general rule, with our antecedent ideas of what is natural, appropriate 
and so forth. Sir J. G. Fitch gives a good example of this effect in 

^ See, for examples, my Shidies of Childhood, pp. 175, 442. 



230 REPEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

imprinting a fact on the memory, vi2., the unexpectedness of the in- 
formation that Biile Britannia was written by Thompson, the singer of 
quiet pastorals, I myself learnt that the college courts were called 
" quads " (quadrangles) at Oxford and' not at Cambridge by noting the 
contradiction of the natural expectation that the mathematical Uni- 
versity would have used the geometrical term. For other illustrations 
see M. Perez, L'Enfant de trois d sept ans, chap. i. 

Simple and Complex Suggestion. So far it has 
been assumed that suggestion is simple, that the sug- 
gestive force of a given presentation acts in one single 
direction only, viz., the revival of a particular memory- 
image. But this does not correspond with the facts. 
Suggestion is a highly complex process. One element 
of our knowledge may enter by associative attachment 
into a number of distinct combinations. Thus the image 
of the Coliseum at Rome is associated in my mind with 
those of events in my personal history, of pleasant days 
passed at Rome, and also with those of historical events, 
such as the gladiatorial combats of the Empire, its con- 
quests and luxury. In addition to such divergent lines of 
associative reproduction, we have the effect of the sug- 
gestive tendencies of similarity and contrast. Thus the 
idea of the Coliseum tends to call up those of other 
similar buildings, e.g., the amphitheatre at Verona, and 
(partly by contrast) those of adjacent modern buildings. 
The pathways of suggestive revival are not distinct and 
parallel, like the strings of a harp, but intersect one 
another, forming an intricate network. 

Divergent Suggestion. Looked at from one point 
of view the fact of this complexity of connections between 
the parts of our knowledge is an obstruction to the re- 
vival of ideas. If the idea of the Coliseum tends 
to call up a diversity of images, then the minrl in 



SIMPLE AND COMPLEX SUGGESTION. 281 

setting out from this idea is liable to be borne along 
any one of a number of divergent paths. Accordingly it 
is less likely to strike upon any one particular suggestive 
path that is required at the moment. This may be 
called the effect of Divergent Suggestion. It is like 
being in a town and having to find one's way out by a 
particular road. The multiplicity of paths is here a 
hindrance. The errors of confusion into which children 
are apt to fall when, in repeating a poem, singing a tune 
from memory, and so forth, they go off on a wrong 
mental track, are due to the fact that certain members of 
the series they are recalling, e.g., phrases of the poem or 
of the tune, enter into other combinations, and so lead 
their minds astray. A teacher sends me as an example 
the following. Two stanzas of Tennyson's poem The 
Revenge begin respectively with these lines : — 

(1) " And the sun went down, and the stars came out," etc. 

(2) " And the night went down, and the sun smiled out," etc. 

The similarity here — which is of course (along with 
the contrast) a strikingly beautiful feature — led a child 
to confuse the stanzas by substituting for the correct 
line the similar one, and passing on to the context of 
this last. The effect of such divergent connections in 
leading the mind away from what is wanted has been 
marked oft' by Dr. Bain as Obstructive Association, but 
since the operation of similarity as well as of associa- 
tion proper is involved, it is best described as Ob- 
structive Suggestion, 

Convergent Suggestion. Viewed in another way, 
this multiplicity of connections between one idea and 
other ideas is a great aid to the recovery of these. 



232 EEPEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION.^ 

Since a number of mental elements are each fitted to 
suggest one and the same image, it follows that when 
the former are present the probability of a revival is 
greatly strengthened by their co-operation. This may 
be called the effect of convergent suggestion. In this 
case we are in the advantageous position of a person 
outside a town, and able therefore- to get to its centre by 
any one of a number of roads converging on the same 
point. Thus if I read a work on Roman history the 
image of the Coliseum may be called up by the co- 
operation of a number of suggesting ideas. The general 
effect of such co-operation may be stated in the form of 
the following principle : the reproduction of a given 
memory -image is aided and made more certain, the 
more numerous its associative connections %vith the 
group of presentations and ideas now present in con- 
sciousness, and the more numerous its relations of 
similarity to these. 

This aid from convergent suggestion is seen in recall- 
ing those complex series already dealt with, and espe- 
cially verbal series, together with the connected series of 
ideas. In repeating a poem, for example, a child is aided 
by the suggestive force of the words already uttered 
(both as sounds and as articulatory movements) and also 
by that of the ideas attached to these. 

Another and somewhat different kind of example is 
recalling the date of an historical event. This, we will 
suppose, is associated in the child's mind with that of 
simultaneous events at home or abroad, as well as with 
those of preceding and succeeding events. Consequently, 
any one of these associated concomitants may help to 
recall it. 



CO-OPEEATION OF SUGGESTIVE FORCES. 233 

In this convergent and co-operative action of sugges- 
tion similarity often aids association. A person's name 
may be recalled not only b}^ calling up his appearance, 
the tones of his voice, or other associated impression, 
but also by way of some other name which it resembles, 
in length, distribution of accent, and in the presence of 
certain common sounds, more particularly the initial 
one. The reproduction of the order of succession of 
our Saxon kings may be aided by the similarity of their 
names, just as the learning of the verses of a poem may 
be aided by the recurring similarities of metre and 
rhyme; though, as we have seen, this same force of 
similarity may easily become obstructive and confusing. 

Most revivals of ideas involve a measure of co-opera- 
tion. When, for example, after years of absence, I 
revisit a familiar place, the revival of some recollection 
is due to the suggestive force of a number of elements, 
such as this and that visible feature, the characteristic 
sounds, and, it may be, the characteristic odour of the spot. 

One aspect of this co-operation is of great importance 
to the teacher. Our knowledge of any subject involves 
a whole group of ideas duly arranged and organised. 
Thus a child's knowledge of a lemon when made full and 
methodical includes not only representations of its 
several qualities, but those of the plant on which it 
grows, the countries in which it thrives, the way it is 
brought to this country, its uses, and so forth. That is 
to say, knowledge involves a kind of intellectual system 
of parts. In many cases, where some constituent idea 
of this system is to be called up, several other parts are 
first revived, and so act as suggestive forces. In a 
class of English history a child is specially ready to re- 



234 KEPKODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

call some historical fact asked for because the circum- 
stances of the time, and the preceding talk about this 
and that historical personage and event, have served to 
agitate slightly a whole group of " psycho- physical dis- 
positions " answering to his historical knowledge. The 
same thing is seen in the ease and rapidity with which 
we can talk a foreign language which we know when 
we are in the country where it is spoken, and so have 
the whole system of brain activities, together with the 
connected mental activities which constitute the lasting 
basis of our knowledge, specially played upon.^ 

Summary of Laws of Suggestion. We may now 
summarise the several conditions of suggestion under a 
number of special laws. 

(1) First of all, in all cases, whether suggestion takes 
place by the aid of Contiguity or of Similarity, the re- 
vival is determined by the impressiveness or depth of 
the original presentation or series of presentations. It is 
only when the conditions which serve to develop a dis- 
tinct memory-image have been realised that this image 
can be called up by the suggestive forces. In other 
words, suggestion always depends on the tendency or 
disposition of the image called up to reinstate itself (see 
above, p. 217). 

(2) Secondly, in all cases alike the process of sug- 
gestion is furthered by the strength of the suggestive 
presentation or idea present at the moment. The more 
vivid, interesting and prolonged the presentation, the more 
likely is it to suggest an image related to it, whether by 

1 The advanced student may well read in this connection what Mr. 
G. F. Stout says about apperceptive systems {Analytic Psychology, 
ii., p. 124 ff.). 



SUMMAEY OF LAWS OF SUGGESTION. 235 

Contiguity or by Similarity. Hence presentations have 
in general much more suggestive force than ideas. We 
are far more likely to recall an event if we actually 
see the place where it occurred than if we merely 
imagine the place. The same applies to the revival of 
similars. 

(3) The Law of Contiguity, already defined (p. 218). 

(4) The Law of Similarity, already defined (p. 226). 

(5) The Laws of Complex Suggestion. These are as 
follows : (a) If a perception or idea now present tends 
to call up more than one image, the particular line of 
suggestion followed out will depend, first of all, on the 
relative strength of the several " psycho-physical dis- 
positions " underlying the revivals of the several com- 
peting images. A word with several meanings will most 
probably suggest that meaning which we have recently 
been thinking about. With this must be taken the rela- 
tive closeness of the associative bonds, or, in the case of 
similars, the relative degree of similarity which ob- 
tains between the reviving presentation and the several 
ideas which may be revived. That meaning of an am- 
biguous word which has been most firmly fixed by usage 
and repetition will be the most readily recalled, (b) In 
the cases in which a number of suggestive forces co- 
operate, the tendency to bring up the image increases 
with the number of the suggestive agencies, and with the 
suggestive force of each. When we revisit the scene of 
some personal experience the recollection of this last is 
aided by the number of suggestive forces at work, such 
as the sight of this room, this garden, this person ; and 
the more potent these reminders, the more fully and 
vividly is the memory of the experience recalled. 



236 EEPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Active Reproduction : Recollection. The repro- 
duction of impressions is very often, comparatively speak- 
ing, a passive or mechanical operation, in which there is 
no control of the successive stages by voluntary atten- 
tion. In many of our idle moments, e.g., when taking a 
walk in the country, the mind abandons itself, so to say, 
to the play of the forces of suggestion. 

In contrast to this passive process of reproduction, 
there is an active process in which the will co-operates. 
Here, too, the order of the images which arise is ulti- 
mately determined by the forces of suggestion. We 
cannot by any effort secure the revival of an idea except 
through the medium of these suggestive agencies. A 
child, for example, cannot recall yesterday's lesson 
simply by trying to do so, supposing that the lesson has 
not previously been properly learnt and connected with 
other knowledge. But, assuming that these conditions 
are fulfilled, the child who has the requisite will-power 
can by an effort so guide and control the processes of his 
mind at the time as to aid in the reproduction of what 
he has learnt. This active side of reproduction is best 
marked off as Recollection. 

The nature of the volitional process will have to be 
considered later on. Here it is enough to say that the 
effort spoken of consists in a specially strenuous act of 
concentration on what is before the mind, with a view 
to give it greater distinctness and greater persistence. 
Thus if a child is asked the date of a certain battle, he 
may by a special effort fix his attention on the image of 
the battle (or, as perhaps more frequently happens, on 
the image of the page in the history book), and thereby 
develop it into a steady and clear mental picture. 



KECOLLECTION. 237 

And by so doing he helps to bring out all the sug- 
gestive force of this idea. Not only so, the will 
accomplishes an important work in resisting divergent 
suggestions by turning the attention from all misleading 
reminders, and perseveringly following up the useful clues 
which present themselves. 

It is to be noted that the revival of an impression^ 
such as that of a name or of an event, is very often a 
gradual process. We may be dimly aware beforehand 
of the character of the idea we desire to call up clearly, 
and by a resolute effort we may keep " peggi^ig away" 
until we reach and grasp it. Nay, as we all know, we 
may even try to recall apparently with no result, and 
only later, when the effort has ceased, find that our 
" pegging away " has somehow set going brain processes 
which, by stirring certain '' psycho-physical tendencies," 
issue in the emergence in consciousness of the desired 
idea. 

It is to be borne in mind that this steadying action of 
the will enters, in a less marked manner, into all our 
ordinary processes of reproduction. Even in repeating a 
well-learnt poem a child's will, by an effort so slight that 
he may be scarcely aware of it, guides the whole process, 
securing the due succession of the several members of 
the train, and the avoidance of misleading suggestions. 
And a complete relaxation of this attitude of attention at 
any moment would be fatal to the due carrying out of 
the operation. 

This ability to control the reproauctive processes 
reaches its highest development in a habit of going over 
the contents of memory, and following out, now one line 
of suggestion, now another, according to the purpose in 



^38 EEPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

hand. It is this ability which is illustrated in the readi- 
ness of an intelligent child to answer the teacher's ques- 
tions, to go back to the surroundings and attachments of 
a piece of knowledge, to find examples of a rule, analo- 
gies to a historical event, and so forth. This ready 
command of the mind's store of knowledge by the will 
presupposes that there has been an orderly arrangement 
of the materials, that new facts when learnt have been 
taken up as ideas into systems of ideas. It is only when 
there has been in the earlier or acquisitive stage of 
knowledge a close concentration of attention, and an 
orderly synthesis of materials into organic wholes, that 
there can be a ready command of the mind's materials 
in the later stage of reproduction. 



CHAPTER X. 

REPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION (continued) : MEMORY. 

Memory axd Memories. Memory is the function of 
Retention as manifested in the reproduction of images, 
when this has been developed into a complete faculty of 
recalling past experiences in their proper connections. 
Its laws have been considered in the foregoing chapter. 
We have now to examine the different varieties which it 
assumes and the manner of its development. 

The degree of perfection with which we remember 
anything may be measured by tAvo main tests : (1) the 
length of the time-interval which has elapsed between 
the original experience and the revival of the 
memory-image, and (2) the degree of completeness and 
distinctness of the images which are called up, as also 
the readiness with which they are reinstated. Thus a 
child may be said to remember well something he has 
seen or heard about in a lesson when he can recall the 
impression months afterwards, and can call up a full 
and distinct image of the matter, and without effort ; 
whereas he remembers badly wdien he can only do so 
a day or two afterwards, or only very indistinctly, and 
with effort. 

Although we commonly speak of memory as if it were 
a simple indivisible faculty, it would be more correct to 
say that it consists of a number of distinct aptitudes. 



240 EEPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION : MEMORY. 

The ability to recall readily and distinctly one order of 
impressions, say colours and their arrangements, is 
different from the ability to recall another order, such 
as musical tones and their combinations. There are as 
many varieties of memory or " memories " as there are 
different classes of sensation. Within the limits of one 
and the same sense, too, there are distinct differences 
of memory. Thus the ability to recall colours dis- 
tinctly is a different aptitude from that involved in a 
ready and clear reproduction of (visible) forms. Simi- 
larly the recalling of musical sounds rests on a different 
aptitude from that involved in the reproduction of arti- 
culate or verbal sounds. Modern scientific research 
shows that the memory for one order of impressions 
may be destroyed by brain -disease without the other 
memories being impaired ; and this suggests that our 
several memories, like our several powers of perception 
(seeing, hearing, etc.), are connected with different parts 
of the brain. 

Speaking generally, and disregarding for the present 
individual differences, we may say that the higher the 
sense in point of discriminative refinement and of know- 
ledge-giving value, the better the corresponding memory. 
Of all orders of sense-presentations visual impressions or 
" sights " are in general recalled most perfectly. Our 
knowledge of things is largely made up of visual images 
or " mental pictures ". Next to these come auditory (or 
aural) presentations. As pointed out above, words play 
an important auxiliary part in the memory of things. 
When we recall a series of events we commonly have an 
accompaniment of " internal speech," which consists 
partly of auditory and partly of motor images (those 



MEMOBY AND MEMORIES. 241 

corresponding to the movements of articulation). After 
auditory impressions there follow tactile ones, which 
in normal cases (though, as we have seen, their 
images are taken np into visual percepts) seem to be 
not easily reproducible- as separate presentations.^ 
Finally come the two lowest of the special senses, 
which, as might be expected, give rise in general only to 
very vague images. With respect to motor presenta- 
tions, viz., those supplied by movements of the limbs, 
articulatory organ, eyes, etc., the reproduction is fairly 
good. Here, too, it is to be noted that the process of 
reproduction is commonly complex, the motor elements 
being aided by others. Thus the child recalls the manual 
movements involved in writing or in playing the piano 
by the aid of visual images of his moving hands. 

EARLY DEVELOPMENTS OF MEMORY. 

^ Early Growth of Memory. The beginnings of 
what we call a memory presuppose a certain de- 
velopment of sense-perception. The inability of the in- 
fant mind to keep up an image even for a very 
short interval after the occurrence of an impression 
is illustrated in the fact that after examining, a biscuit 
tin and finding nothing in it an infant will directly 
afterwards put its hand in again, apparently losing 
all trace of its previous experience. On the other 
hand, children, even in this early period, clearly display 
the lower form of retentive power, viz., that of recog- 
nising objects when they again present themselves after 
an interval. Thus a child less than three months old 

1 In the case of the blind, the constant reference to touch-experience 
leads to a much fuller revival of its presentations. 

ir 



242 REPEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION : MEMORY. 

will remember the face of his nurse or father after A 
separation of some weeks. A certain development of 
this process of recognising objects is necessary before 
there occur images, in the complete sense of this term, 
that is, mental representations detached from present 
sense-impressions. 

The first images to be recalled are such as are closely- 
associated with, and so immediately called up by, the 
impressions of the moment. A child reveals the be- 
ginnings of a true reproductive imagination in the 
attitude of expectation, as when he shows that he under- 
stands the preparations going on for the meal, the bath, 
and the like. This has been said to manifest itself in 
the twenty-first week.^ As the interest in things ex- 
tends and the observing powers are strengthened by 
exercise, more complete and distinct mental pictures 
of objects are developed. A child of three months 
showed, according to Perez, the germ of reproductive 
imagination when, happening to see the cage without 
the bird he wa^ accustomed to see and hear in it, he 
manifested all the signs of bitter disappointment.^ 

Effects of Repetition and of Novelty of Ex- 
perience. As experiences repeat themselves, the mental 
images become more distinct, and are more firmly asso- 
ciated. The learning of the meaning of words, which may 

1 See The Mental Develoimient of a Child, by K. C. Moore, p, 100 
(Macmillan & Co.). 

2 See his volume The First Three Tears of Childhood, p. 147. Mr. 
Darwin in some notes of one of his children records the first distinct 
appearance of ideas or images at five months. At this age the child, 
as soon as his hat and cloak had been put on, became very cross if act 
taken out at ones. 



EARLY GROWTH OF MEMORY. 243 

begin early in the second half year, i.e., several months 
before the actual employment of them, greatly enlarges 
the range of suggestion.^ After the meaning of verbal 
signs begins to be understood the mother or the nurse 
may help to suggest the image of an absent object, such 
as " papa " or " bow-wow," by talking of it. The regular 
repetition of conjunctions of experience further brings 
about the formation of more complex groups and 
series of representations. Thus a child of eighteen 
months will mentally rehearse a whole series of experi- 
ences, e.g., those of a walk : '' Go tata, see gee-gee, bow- 
wow," etc. 

It may be added that suggestion by contiguity appears 
distinctly to precede that by way of similarity. The 
latter grows out of the first " automatic " kind of recogni- 
tion. In one instance it was first observed in the fortieth 
week.2 

The child's experience is far from being a mere series 
of repetitions. The world is new, and full of wonder for 
the little observer, and his attention is ever being drawn 
hither and thither to some fresh marvel. Attention to 
the new is furthered not only by alterations of surround- 
ings (some of which are caused by his own actions), and 
especially by the introduction of novel persons, scenes, 
and incidents, but also by an expansion of the child's 
interest in things. Thus the germ of an interest in 
self and its concerns leads the child to observe and to 
remember how a particular person behaves towards 
him : a nascent interest in " pussy " leads to the noting 

^ Mr. Darwin's boy at the age of seven months would turn and look 
at his nurse when her name was pronounced. 

'^ K. C. Moore, oj). cit., p. 93. 



244 EEPEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION : MEMORY. 

and retaining of any new impression in relation to this 
favourite. 

At lirst, events, even when noted, appear to leave but a 
temporary impression on the mind. Yet at an early age 
a child displays the germ of a more lasting retention. 
One child twelve months old is said to have recognised 
his nurse after six days' absence, though this, according 
to Preyer, is a rare occurrence. It is only later that ex- 
periences appear to become firmly woven into something 
like a memory-texture so that a child is able to recall an 
incident months afterwards, and with its proper con- 
comitants. A child of two or two and a half sometimes 
displays a marvellous power of recalling little incidents 
long after they have happened. Towards the end of the 
third year this greater reach of retention becomes more 
frequent. At about the same age at which, as we shall 
see. a child comes to a clearer consciousness of self, he 
acquires the germ of what we call lasting recollections. 

The growth of memory from about the sixth to the 
twelfth year appears to be very considerable. This is 
seen in the greater readiness or quickness with which 
new impressions are acquired. It has been found that 
the power of reproducing a string of numerals or of non- 
sense-syllables immediately after hearing the series is 
much greater in the case of a child of twelve or four- 
teen than in that of a younger child. The older child 
can reproduce a longer series, and requires fewer repeti- 
tions of the sounds in order to reproduce a given series 
with perfect correctness. And what applies to these 
temporary recollections applies also to the more per- 
manent ones ; it is easier for the former child than for 
the latter to learn poetry. 



BEGINNINGS OF PERMANENT MEMORY. 245 

The earlier experience and knowledge tends to some 
extent to be dislodged by the later. A child at school 
has forgotten much of his baby experiences, his nursery 
rhymes and so forth. It is only so far as new im- 
pressions are connected (by way of similarity and conti- 
guity) with older ones that these last tend to persist. That 
many at least of these earlier impressions are merely borne 
down by newer impressions is seen in the fact that 
towards old age, when the power of acquiring new im- 
pressions is impaired, the memories of early life often 
revive with considerable fulness and vividness. 

Causes of Growth of Memory. This increase in 
memory power is due to some extent to developmental 
changes in the brain. All mental acquisition appears 
to involve the formation of new nervous connections. 
The readiness of the organ to undergo these changes, 
known as its " plastic " power, increases rapidly during 
the early years of life. This fact explains the precocity 
of memory. It is commonly said that the power of 
acquiring new impressions, as measured by the smallness 
of the effort of attention and of the number of repetitions 
required, reaches its maximum about the beginning of 
the period of youth (towards the age of twelve), and this 
suggests that later on the structure of the brain is more 
set and less capable of further modifications. 

While, however, this increase in the plastic power oi 
the brain is one great condition of memory-growth, it is 
not the only one. The power of acquiring and retaining 
knowledge is one which, like other powers, grows by 
exercise. More particularly the child's power of atten- 
tion, which, as we have seen, is so important a factor 
in acquiring lasting impressions, is greatly improved by 



246 EEPEODUCTIYE IMAGINATION : MEMOKY. 

methodical exercise. The precise effects of this exercise 
will be spoken of more fully presently. 

Varieties of Memory, General and Special. There 
is probably no power which varies more among indi- 
viduals than memory. The interval which separates a 
person of average memory from one of the historical 
examples, as Joseph Scaliger, Pascal, or Macaalay, seems 
scarcely measurable. Casaubon says of Scaliger : " He 
read nothing (and what did he not read ?) which he did 
not forthwith remember ". Pascal says he never forgot 
anything which he had read or thought. Persons of 
ordinary minds can only read such statements with 
dumb astonishment. 

There are different ways in which one person's memory 
may differ from another's. In the first place, what we 
call a good faculty of memory presents different charac- 
teristics. For example, one boy may be quick in 
acquiring impressions, but not correspondingly tenacious, 
illustrating the saying, " easy come, easy go ". Another 
boy may retain firmly what he has once thoroughly 
learnt, but be wanting in readiness in bringing out and 
using what he knows. Or again, a boy may show him- 
self a ready learner and prompt in recalling, and j^et, like 
many a fluent talker, be wanting \n fulness and exact- 
ness of knowledge. These differences give well-marked 
peculiarities of character to the memories of different in- 
dividuals. 

In the second place, there are very distinct differences 
among children and adults alike with respect to the 
range of memory, or the amount and variety of material 
which can be retained. A comparatively few persons of 
exceptional endowment have a good average 2^ower of 



INDIVIDUAL DIFFEEENCES OF MEMOEY. 247 

retaining impressions of all kinds, whereas there are 
others who have a low average capacity. This is called 
a difference in General MeTnory} 

From these differences in the average power of re- 
tentiveness we may distinguish differences in the special 
directions in which the retentive power is strong. These 
are marked off as differences of Special Memory. For 
example, one child will be found to have a good re- 
tentive power for the impressions of a particular sense, 
say, sight or hearing, as a whole, whereas another will 
show a comparative weakness in respect of this class of 
impressions. Kecent investigations have tended to prove 
that most, if not all, children have a favourite memory- 
medium. Thus in recalling words some prefer to repre- 
sent the sounds, others the articulatory movements, others 
again the visual symbols. They have been distinguished 
as '' audiles," "motors," and "visuals". Again, a child 
may display special aptitude in retaining some par- 
ticular variety of the impressions of one sense, e.g., those 
of colour or of form. Further, a special aptitude of 
memory frequently shows itself in relation to a particular 
class of object-presentations, such as voices or faces. In 
this way arise what are known as the musical memory, the 
pictorial memory, the memory for faces, for locality, and 
the like. Illustrations of such exceptional retentive 
power in definite directions are found in Horace Vernet 
and Gustave Dore, each of whom could paint a portrait 
from memory, and Mozart, who wrote down the Miserere 
of the Sistine Chapel after hearing it only twice. 

Memories differ with respect not only to the kind of 

The student must, however, not suppose that the use of the word 
*' general " here implies a single faculty of memory. 



248 REPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION : MEMORY. 

impression specially favoured but to the particular mode 
of grouping selected. Some minds connect visible ob- 
jects in their local relations better than others; whereas 
these last may have a better power of linking together 
successive pictures answering to events. The former 
would have a better local, pictorial or geographical 
memory, the latter a better historical or possibly a better 
scientific memory. In some memories revival by simi- 
larity is less frequent than in others. 

Causes of Difference. All difterences in the general 
power and the special forms of memory would seem to be 
due either to differences in the organic basis or to those 
in the kind and amount of exercise previously under- 
gone. A child's general superiority probably depends 
on a particularly tine development of the brain as a 
whole. As Locke observes : " An impression made on 
Bees- wax or Lead will not last so long as on Brass or 
Steel ".^ Similarly the narrower differences referred to 
point to original difi'erences of special organs. The 
child that remembers colours well is the child that has 
the organs of colour perception, both peripheral and 
central, well developed. 

At the same time it is clear that the differences ob- 
servable in the degree of perfection of people's memories 
are due in part to differences of circumstances and of 
education. While in the case of every individual the 
amount of " natural retentiveness " or of " brain plas- 
ticity " sets limits to the growth of memory, much may 
be done by suitable exercise to improve the faculty 
within these limits. The discipline of the school, if 
judicious, tends very materially to strengthen a child 3 
^ Concerning Education, sec. 176. 



EXPLANATION OF INEQUALITIES. 249 

memory by developing to the full the capacities of his 
brain. Here the effects of concentration of mind in 
improving retention are specially noticeable. 

In the improvement of memory in special directions 
the effects of exercise are still more clearly recognisable. 
If we suppose, as is sometimes done, that the retentive 
power of an individual's brain as a whole is a limited 
quantity, it is evident that special circumstances and 
education will determine the particular lines of develop- 
ment of this brain-energy. Common observation tells 
us that the habitual direction of the attention to any 
class of impressions very materially raises the retentive 
power in respect of these. The blind not only have 
better perceptions of touch than those who see, but they 
recall and imagine touches in a way that we perhaps can 
hardly understand. Owing to this effect of a habit of 
concentration each mind becomes specially retentive in 
the directions in ivhich its ruling interests lie. Every 
special emplojnnent, such as that of engineer, linguist, or 
musician, tends to produce a corresponding speciality of 
memory. 

Great speciality of memory commonly means one- 
sidedness, and relative inaptitude for other retentions. 
This is the drawback. Undue preponderance of natural 
power and of interest and concentration in some one 
direction lead, if not checked, to narrowness in the field 
of ideas. 

Measurement op Memory. As already pointed out, the new ex- 
perimental psychology has endeavoured to measure the phenomena of 
memory. One class of these investigations test what has been called 
primary or temporary memory. Thus the inquiry has been carried 
out by A. Binet how far children are able to keep in their minds foi 
four or five seconds the image of a vertical line, so as to say what line. 



250 EEPKODUCTIVE IMAGINATION : MEMORY. 

among a number of lines shown after this interval, appears equal to the 
first. Ebbinghaus and others have investigated the number of repeti- 
tions (i.e., repeated presentations) of a series of nonsense -syllables, 
numerals arbitrarily arranged, and so forth, which is necessary to en- 
able the subject to reproduce them fully and correctly immediately after- 
wards. In order to make these experiments a means of testing memory 
in its fuller sense, a considerable interval, say a day, should elapse 
between the process of acquisition and that of reproduction. 

In addition to these experiments, others of a simple kind have been 
devised for testing the special directions and the rapidity of associative 
reproduction. A word is given, such as " cottage," and the subject 
asked to say at once what other idea (beside that of the word itself) is 
first called up. Some will say " garden," others " chimney," others 
"house," others perhaps "mansion" or "palace". In this way, it 
is evident, we are able to know something about the contents of chil- 
dren's minds and the special lines of suggestion which their reproduc- 
tions follow.^ 

EDUCATIONAL CONTROL OF THE MEMORY. 

Training of the Memory. To exercise and improve 
the memory is allowed by all to be a part of the busi- 
ness of the educator, and more especially of the school 
teacher. Hence it is a matter of importance to under- 
stand what is involved in the training of the faculty, 
and by what methods it may be best effected. 

Such training aims primarily at exercising the child in 
acquiring and reproducing intellectual material. This 
material is obtained either directly by the observation of 
things, as in the object-lesson, or indirectly by way of 
verbal instruction.^ The more complete and distinct the 
resulting ideas and the more methodically and firmly 

' For a fuller account of these experiments, see 0. Kiilpe's Outlines 
of Psychology, translated by E. B. Titchener, § 27a, p. 177 ff. 

- In this latter case the ideas acquired have to be developed by a 
special imaginative process, to be dealt with presently. 



TRAINING OF THE MEMORY. 251 

they are connected with other ideas, the better will be 
the training. 

Along with this result, viz., the accumulation and mas- 
tery of so much knowledge, the educator aims by means 
of such processes of acquisition at improving the child's 
power of acquiring and retaining further knowledge 
later on. In other words, he seeks to develop a good 
type of the learning faculty in general. As Locke puts 
it : " The business of education is not, as I think, to make 
them (the young) perfect in any one of the Sciences, but 
so to open and dispose their minds as may best make 
them capable of any, when they shall apply themselves 
to it".^ So far as the teacher makes this wider result 
his object, he will be guided in his choice of materials 
as well as of methods by their fitness to contribute 
most effectually to the improvement of the learning 
faculty. 

The culture of a child's memory claims the educator's 
attention from the first. As a precocious power it calls 
for no inconsiderable amount of exercise from the parent 
before the period of school life begins. The mother of 
a child of three or four often has quite enough to do 
to satisfy the cravings of the little one's " acquisitive 
faculty ". The fact that impressions firmly fixed in the 
first years are the most lasting makes it specially im- 
portant that a right kind of training should be supplied 
during the early development of the faculty. As Quin- 
tilian has it : " We are by nature most retentive of those 
things which we learned in the early years " (" Natura 
tenacissimi sumus eorum, quas rudibus annis percepi- 
mus"). 

1 Of the Conduct of Ike Understanding, ed. by Prof. Fowler, p. 44. 



252 REPEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION : MEMORY. 

This regulation of the learning process may be said to 
begin with the use of language by the nurse and others 
in naming to the child the various objects of sight. The 
systematic training of the memory should, it is evident, 
be first carried out in close connection with observation. 
The meaning of words should be taught by connecting 
them with the real objects, that is to say, by simul- 
taneously naming and pointing out an object. The 
naming of the several properties and uses of things is an 
important completion of the object-lesson (see above, 
p. 202 f.). As supplementary to this, the child should be 
exercised in recalling by means of words the impressions 
directly received by way of observation. The parent 
can do much to develop the memory of the child hy en- 
couraging him to describe what he sees, to narrate some 
new experience, and so forth. 

After a sufficient store of first-hand knowledge has 
thus been accumulated, the memory should be trained 
in the acquisition of knowledge about things at second 
hand, that is to say, through the medium of verbal in- 
struction. The early period of school life is the one 
most favoui-able for the building up of verbal acquisi- 
tions. It costs less effort in this early stage of develop- 
ment to learn the concrete facts of history, geography, 
language and the like than it would cost at a later date. 
Hence it has been called the " plastic period ".^ 

In training the memory the different characteristics 
of a good memory should be kept in view. These, as 
already implied, are : (1) aptitude in applying the mind 

^ Professor Bain regards the years from six to ten as probably " the 
age of the maximum of pure memory, as typified by Language acquisi- 
tions " {Education as a Science, p. 186). 



EAKLY EXERCISE OF MEMORY. 253 

to a subject so as to acquire knowledge of it; (2) a firm 
mental hold on what is thus learnt, or tenacity of 
memory ; and (3) readiness in recalling and making use 
of what has been stored up in the mind. To this some 
would add a fourth excellence, viz., fidelity or accuracy 
in reproduction. As Quintilian says : " There is a double 
excellence of memory, to learn easily and to retain faith- 
fully " (" facile percipere et fideliter continere "). 

A glance at these requisites suggests that memory- 
training falls into two main divisions : (a) exercising 
the pupil in a careful and methodical process of acqui- 
sition ; (b) practising him in recalling what he has learnt. 
Although in practice these two branches of training 
run on together, we may, to a certain extent, treat 
them as separate processes. 

(a) Exercise in Acquisition. In this stage the first 
rule to be attended to is to take the child at his best. 
Committing anything to memory makes a severe demand 
on the brain energies, and should so far as possible be 
relegated to the hours of greatest vigour and freshness. 
The morning is now known to be the best time for 
learning. Heavy preparation work in the evening, 
especially in the case of young children, is distinctly in- 
jurious. At the same time the practice of refreshing 
the impressions of the day by going over notes of lessons 
has undoubted advantages ; and many a learner has tes- 
tified to the fact that rehearsing a lesson before falling 
asleep is an aid to the lively reproduction of it on the 
morrow. 

The next rule is that every resource should be used for 
making the subjects to be learnt as interesting as possible. 
The complaints of many distinguished men about the 



254 EEPEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION : MEMORY. 

drudgery of school learning may remind us how easy it 
is to overlook this condition. A large number of bo3^s 
have, like the old writer Schuppius, taken heart by com- 
mitting things to memory " in spem futurse oblivionis " 
(''in the hope of afterwards forgetting them "). It has 
been observed by an eminent teacher that " the memory 
of the young is very good if they care for what they 
are about ". In order to secure this condition we must 
consult the learner's natural tastes to some extent, and 
keep in view what Locke calls " the seasons of apti- 
tude and inclination ". And we must further seek to 
develop a special interest in the subject studied. The 
awakening of interest, especially in the early years of 
the school when the love of knowledge for its own sake 
is limited, may proceed in part by helping the child to 
realise the uses of knowledge, and the power it brings to 
its possessor. Perhaps one of the chief drawbacks to 
the teaching of the school as compared with that of the 
home is that it tends to put the day's lessons so com- 
pletely outside the circle of home-interests, which are 
after all the child's real life. 

It is hardly needful to emphasise the point that in 
training the memory a judicious use should be made of 
the principle of repetition. Such repetition enters into 
the very process of giving instruction. Thus when a 
teacher after each step in an oral lesson writes down the 
points reached on the blackboard, he introduces a new 
sense- vehicle, the eye, and so tends to fix the subject by 
a form of repetition which avoids monotony, and intro- 
duces a new link of association. Repetition may also be 
secured by the evening work, writing out notes, and 
what should go with this, a talk about the lesson with 



EXERCISE IN ACQUISITION. 255 

an intelligent parent. In all these ways the value of re- 
petition is realised without its monotony.^ 

Lastly, the educator should make ample use of the 
great principle of connecting ideas on which all revival 
of impressions depends. In its bearing on instruction 
this principle includes two things : (1) the connecting one 
with another of the several parts of the new matter pre- 
sented in the clearest way possible ; and (2) the bring- 
ing of the new acquisition into its right relations to the 
old ones. Thus, in teaching a geographical fact, say, 
the situation of Liverpool, its relation to commerce, and 
to other places, as America and Manchester — which not 
only form necessary parts of the whole geographical fact 
dealt with, but serve as associative bonds by help of which 
the knowledge of the particular fact of the locality may 
afterwards be revived — should be made clear. Similarly, 
in relating an historical event, the due setting forth of 
the several actions and incidents in their proper order 
of time, and the pointing out of the causes of what took 
place, supply connections of ideas of the greatest value 
for the memory. Clear retention of what is heard is 
further aided by a certain orderliness of procedure in 
which the more important events are used as a thread 
to which the subordinate events are, so to speak, strung 
on. In this case the several materials, being better 
arranged, are afterwards much more readily reproduced. 

1 On the importance of taking time to learn, Seneca observes : 
" The mind retains late what it has spent a long time in learning " 
(" Dediscit animus sero quod didicit diu "). As to the value of intro- 
ducing variety and freshness into the repetition, it has been remarked 
that the very things best remembered by children, viz., the words of 
their mother-tongue, are being ever repeated, but in ever fresh surround- 
ings. 



256 REPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION : MEMORY. 

In building up these connections special pains should 
be taken to select interesting associations. Children are 
as a rule greatly interested in the making, and generally 
in the mode of production, of things ; hence it is well to 
give prominence to their origin and their causes. For 
example, in teaching the geography of countries it is 
well to call attention to those in which rice, tea, the 
orange, or other natural produce is cultivated, as also 
to explain the mode of conveying it to this country. 

In connecting the new with the old, again, there is 
ample room for the binding force of interesting associa- 
tions. What is spoken of in educational works as 
" assimilating knowledge " includes this process. Thus 
in a geographical lesson a new foreign country, say 
India, becomes interesting when it is represented as the 
home and the source of cotton, of rice, or other familiar 
commodity. Similarly historical facts become interesting, 
and are likely to be remembered, when they are pre- 
sented as stages in the making of what are familiar 
institutions of to-day. 

What is specially known as " assimilating " knowledge 
implies the noting of the similarities in the new facts 
and ideas to what is already known. The bringing out 
of these relations of similarity forms an important factor 
in the training of the memory. When, for example, the 
new word has had its resemblance to a familiar word 
made clear, or the new historical fact has been compared 
with another similar one (say the Norman with previous 
invasions), not only does the new material have an in- 
teresting light thrown on it, but it is taken up into a 
connection of ideas which will serve to fix it in a per- 
manent system of knowledge. 



CONNECTING THE NEW WITH THE OLD. 257 

As supplementary to this exhibition of the similarity, 
and this rudimentary classification, of new facts, the 
teacher should bring out the points of contrast between 
the new and old facts. For instance, in teaching early 
English history we should do well to dwell on the strik- 
ing dissimilarities between the Saxon and the Norman 
invaders, and between the effects of their invasions. In 
teaching geography, again, we may obtain the useful 
aid of a certain pleasurable excitement if we set forth 
wide and surprising deviations in habits of life from those 
of our own people, as when we point out that the Japanese 
eat with chop-sticks, and not with knives and forks. 

We thus see that in order to retain his ideas a pupil 
has to think out the connections and relations of the 
facts. One may say, indeed, that the most effectual way 
of arranging the materials of knowledge for purposes 
of retention is precisely that which best subserves the 
understanding of the whole. 

Learning by Heart. The most constant of the 
bonds of connection between ideas which are made 
use of by the teacher is Verbal Association. Teaching 
— even what is called object-teaching — necessarily makes 
use of the medium of language. In all cases the pupil 
is greatly aided by words in remembering what he 
learns. A special use of these verbal associations is 
illustrated in what is known as learning by heart. This 
implies that the learner firmly retains a piece of know- 
ledge in a definite verbal form, which form becomes a 
support of the series of ideas acquired, as well as a 
medium for reproducing these. The learning of the multi- 
plication table, of grammatical rules, of the " chief towns," 
of historical dates, and of poetry illustrates the process. 
18 . 



^58 EEPEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION : MEMORY. 

There is an obvious danger in this mode of learning : 
it tends to a mechanical habit of memorisinp- the words 
merely, without a concurrent acquisition of the ideas. 
This parrot-like mode of learning is particularly in- 
sidious, and this for a double reason. The verbal memory 
being in general quick and tenacious in children, they 
are prone to lean on it to excess ; and it is plainly a 
much simpler problem for the teacher to test whether a 
child has retained the verbal form than whether he has 
grasped the relation of ideas expressed by this form. It 
is now seen, not only that such verbal memorising is 
taking the husk for the nutritious grain of knowledge, 
but that it is, in spite of its mechanical facility, tiresome 
to children. " Learning by heart (says Locke) ... I 
know not what it serves for but to misspend their time 
and pains, and give them a disgust and aversion to 
their books." George Sand tells us that when a child 
she was so tired of having to repeat La Fontaine's fables 
that she set herself not to learn them. 

It is probable that the modern revolt from the tyranny 
of words has led us to undervalue the legitimate service 
of language in learning. In many cases, the embodi- 
ment of knowledge in a precise verbal form is clearly of 
the highest consequence. This applies to such things as 
to definitions and rules where the words are carefully 
selected for a special purpose and cannot be altered, and 
also to poetry and passages of prose where the literary 
form is an element of value.^ Even in learning such a 
subject as history the verbal memory has its rightful part. 
What the teacher has to take care of is that he uses a 

This has been well illustrated by Sir J. G. Fitch, Lectures on 
Teaching, p. 131 and following. 



LEARNING BY HEART. • 259 

child's verbal memory only as an auxiliary to the re- 
tention of ideas after these have been made clear and 
duly connected one with another, and never as a substi- 
tute for this, and that his pupil is not slavishly de- 
pendent on the particular words of the lesson or the 
text-book, but is able to put his knowledge into other 
forms when required to do so. That is to say, learning 
by heart is permissible if it does not degenerate into an 
unintelligent learning by rote} 

Art of Mnemonics. In ancient times great import- 
ance was attached to certain devices for aiding memory 
and shortening its work, which devices have been known 
as Artificial Memory, Mernoria Technica, and the Art 
of Mnemonics. Thus among the Greek and Roman 
teachers of oratory, emphasis was laid on a topical 
memory, i.e., the connecting of the several heads of a 
discourse with different divisions of a house or other 
building, so as to recover them by the aid of visual pic- 
tures of these places. In modern times, too, attempts 
have from time to time been made to shorten the more 
mechanical part of the process of acquisition, as in learn- 
ing dates by Mnemonic word-forms and lines. This 
idea of relieving memory owed much of its apparent 
importance to the older theory that the main business of 
learning is to commit words to memory. Now that this 
theory is discarded, less importance is attached to a 
mnemonic art. When things are to be taught so as to 

^ Strictly speaking, even what is called learning by rote derives 
some assistance from the associations of the ideas. As Jean Paul 
Richter drily observes, memory of v^ords as distinct from memory of 
things would be best tested by committing to memory a sheet ol 
Ilottentot names. 



260 REPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION : MEMORY. 

be understood, it is rightly held that their relations of 
place, time and cause and effect, as well as of similarity, 
should form the main basis of acquisition. In other 
words, the more things are connected in their natural 
relations, the less need there will be for the invention 
of artificial connections.^ 

Although there are no definite rules for aiding the 
memory which are valid in all cases, there is such a 
thing as a skilful management of the memory. This 
will include the formation of certain intellectual habits, 
namely, concentration and judicious repetition, as also the 
methodical selection and arrangement of knowledge- 
material. Memory-labour is greatly economised by de- 
tecting what is important, and overlooking what is unim- 
portant. When Simonides offered to teach Themistocles 
the art of memory, the latter answered : " Rather teach 
me the art of forgetting ". Children should from the 
first be exercised in selection. The labour of memory is 
lightened, too, by finding appropriate " pegs " on which 
to hang new acquisitions, such as the name of the 
book and the number of the page in which a particular 
piece of information can be found. 

Learners will, half involuntarily, further the work of 
learning by all manner of devices that cannot readily be 
reduced to a definite formula. Thus one child in learn- 
ing that the Tudors are followed by the Stuarts will 
notice the odd fact that the S's here follow the T's. One 
boy I have heard of learned to distinguish the situations 
of the rivers Rhine and Rhone as north and south by 

1 For an account of the different systems of Mnemonics, see article 
" Mnemonics," Encyclopedia Britannica, and article " Memory " in 
Chambers' Encyclopcedia. 



AKT OF MNEMONICS. 261 

noting the similarity of the vowel sounds to those 
of the words high and low. In studying a foreign 
language a learner will often shorten the labour by 
discovering slight and fanciful resemblances between the 
new vocables and familiar words in his mother-tongue. 
These devices are perfectly allowable so long as the parts 
of the subject-matter to be learnt are connected in an 
arbitrary way only, and do not supply " natural rela- 
tions " ; such are lists of words of all kinds and numbers. 
For example, the height of Snowdon, 3571 feet, may be 
remembered as the first four of the series of odd digits, 
with the first transposed to the end. Where the matter 
committed to memory is such as requires to be learnt in 
a definite verbal form, the use of verse, with its similari- 
ties of rhythm and rhyme, as illustrated in the well- 
known mnemonic lines in grammar, logic, etc., is a valu- 
able aid to the memory. 

The aids thus resorted to will diflfer in the case of dif- 
ferent children. Some appear to remember ideas better by 
the aid of visual pictures, others better by help of a series 
of sound-representations. According to researches niade 
by Mr. F. Galton, it would appear that many p3rsons in 
early life are wont to help themselves to retain what is 
difficult, e.g., series of letters, numbers, dates, by pictur- 
ing a visual scheme, as when the first twelve numerals 
are represented on a kind of clock face. Teachers would 
do well to find out these spontaneous tendencies of 
children's minds, and to adapt their modes of teaching as 
far as possible to these.^ 

1 I assume here that these early number-schemes persist because of 
their utility in aiding the memory of the numerals. The student should 
consult F. Galton's work, Inquiries into Human Faculty, p. 114 f?. 
(" Number-Forms "). 



262 REPRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION: MEMORY. 

(b) Exercise in Recalling. The teacher has to 
exercise a child's mind in ready reproduction for a 
variety of reasons. First of all, he requires to ascertain 
whether knowledge is duly retained. Again, in the 
newer and better kind of teaching he needs to recall old 
knowledge in order to make sure of taking the pupil on 
to an intelligent grasp of new ideas. Lastly, a syste- 
matic teacher will have again and again to examine the 
contents of children's minds in a wider and more search- 
ing way, with a view to make them ready in looking up 
facts when they are wanted, as in discovering the cause 
of a thing, in finding analogies and contrasts to some 
new fact, in supplying examples of a principle to supple- 
ment those given by himself, and so forth. The art of 
questioning, which rightly holds so high a place in 
modern teaching, is the great means of training children 
in such methodical recollection. 

Subjects which Exercise the Memory. All learn- 
ing as such makes a certain demand on the memory. 
The student of the higher mathematics has to remember 
the principles and the demonstrations of his science, just 
as a student of history has to remember its particular 
facts. At the same time, certain subjects which have to 
do mainly with the concrete, and which appeal but little 
to the understanding, may be said to be in a special sense 
memory-subjects. Of such a kind are Natural Science, 
in its simpler or descriptive phase, Geography, History, 
Languages, and the lighter departments of Literature. 

A complete exercise of the memory on its different 
sides involves the taking up of a number of different 
subjects, such as literature and the various branches of 
elementary science. A certain range and variety of 



CONCENTRATION IN STUDY. 263 

subject is thus good for the memory of the learner. 
At the same time, it is only too easy to set too many 
disconnected subjects so as to prevent that concentra- 
tion and that systematic arrangement of parts in 
wholes on which clear and lasting knowledge depends. 
The ancients had a pedagogical maxim, " multum, non 
multa ". Locke held that the true secret of learning is 
to attack one thing at a time ; and so admirable a scholar 
as Lessing tells us that he followed this rule in his self- 
education. It is probable that in these days of many 
subjects, in spite of what Herbart and others have 
written on the importance of " concentration," a child's 
memory is often a confusion of unconnected fragments 
of knowledge rather than a clearly-arranged system of 
parts. 

The Place of Memory in Intellectual Training. 
The value set on the training of the memory at different 
times and by different writers has varied greatly. The 
old idea was to identify memory and knowledge : " Tan- 
tum scimus quantum memoria tenemus "} No doubt, as 
we have seen, all instruction involves the activity of 
memory. Yet it is a long way from this to saying that 
the chief aim of teaching is to cultivate the memory. 
Intellectual education aims, according to the best theories, 
at a cultivation of intelligence as a whole, and at its best, 
and so at the development of the higher powers of 
" understanding " and thought. 

Now a certain-development of the memory is neces- 
sary to the due carrying out of these higher intellectual 

^ Miss Edgeworth gives an interesting account of the reasons why so 
much importance was attached to memory up to recent times {Prac- 
tical Education, vol. iii., p. 57, etc.) 



264 EEPEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION : MEMOKY. 

activities themselves. Unless the mind has acquired a 
good stock of clear concrete ideas about things, there v^ill 
be no materials for the imagination to combine, or for 
the understanding to reduce to general concepts. As 
Kant observes : " The understanding has as its chief 
auxiliary the faculty of reproduction ". Dugald Stewart 
tells us that he can scarcely recollect one man of genius 
who had not " more than an ordinary share " of re- 
tentive power. 

On the other hand, it is a matter of common testi- 
mony that when the whole stress of education is laid on 
exercising the memory the effect is apt to be hurtful to 
these higher powers of thought ; " beaucoup de memoire, 
peu de jugement," says a French proverb. Similarly, 
Pope observes : — 

" Thus in the soul wliile memorj^ prevails, 
The solid power of understanding fails ". 

A right appreciation of values will lead the teacher 
when training the memory to exercise the child's in- 
telligence as a whole, and in particular to train him in 
so arranging his memory-material as to give the chief 
and central place to the essential and important ideas. 
Such arrangement is already a step in classification, that 
is, in methodical thinking. It is the distinguishing mark 
of what Dugald Stewart called a " philosophical memory," 
that is, of the orderly memory at its best. 

REFERENCES FOR READING. 

For a fuller account of the processes of Memory the student may 
consult the following : Sully, The Ihtinan Mind, chap. ix. ; W. James, 
Psychology, chaps, xvi. and xviii. ; J. Ward, article " Psychology " 
in the Encyclopc^dia Bi'itannico. (" Mental Association and the Memory- 
Continuum "). The experimental investigation of the processes of 



MEMORY AND INTELLIGENCE. 265 

Association is described by 0. Kiilpe, Outlines of Psychology, § 27a (p. 
177 ff.), and E. B. Titcheuer, Outline of Psychology, chaps, viii, and 
xi. Individual diff ere aces of Memory-power are illustrated by Car- 
penter, Mental Physiology, bk. ii., chap. x. The reader of German 
may further consult : J. Huber, Ueber das Geddchtniss, and Franz 
Fauth, Das Geddchtniss. 

The early development of Memory in Children is dealt with by B. 
Perez, The First Three Years of Childhood, chaps, viii. and ix., also 
L'Enfant de trois d, sept ans, chaps, i. and ii. ; and by G. Compayre, 
The Intellectual and Moral Development of the Child, chap. vi. 

On the Educational Management of the Memory, the following will 
be found useful : J. Locke, So7ne Thoughts on Education, especially 
sect. 176 ; Miss Edgeworth, Essays on Practical Education, vol, ii., 
chap. xxi. ; E. Thring, Theory and Pi-actice of Teaching, part ii., 
chap. vii. ; Lloyd Morgan, Psychology for Teachers, chap. ii. 
("Association"); and G. Compayre, Psychology applied to Education, 
chap. V. (Isbister). In connection with this subject the student may 
with advantage read the account of the proper mode of connecting the 
parts of knowledge given by K. Lange, Apperception, part ii., sects, i. 
and ii. ; also consult Connection bettveen Thought and Memory, by Dorp- 
feld, translated by H. T. Lukens (Heath & Co., Boston, U.S.A.). The 
reader of French and German will also find the following useful : 
INIadame Necker, L'Eclucation Pf'ogressive, livre vi., chap. vii. ; G. 
Compayre, Cours de Pedagogic, le<?on vi. ; Henri Marion, Lecons de 
Psychologic, 32^"-^ et 33^"'" lemons ; B. Perez, U Education intellectuelk, 
chap. ii. ; Beneke, Erziehungs und Unterrichtslehre, §§20-22; Waitz, 
Allgemclne Pddagogik, § 24 ; T. Ziller, Allgemeine Pddagogik, § 24 ; 
and J. Hox^pe, Das Ausivendicjlernen und Auswendighcrsagen. 



CHAPTER XI. 

PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Reproductive and Productive Imagination. The 
process of reproduction involves, as we have seen, the 
picturing of objects and of their changes in what are 
called representative images, and is thus a form of imagi- 
nation. But what is popularly known as imagination 
implies more than this. When, for example, we imagine 
a new experience in the future, say a tour abroad, or an 
unknown place which is described to us, the images 
called up are no longer in their form and mode of 
arrangement a reproduction of past experiences. The 
results of experience, the series of memory-images, are 
in this case undergoing a change : they are being modi- 
fied and rearranged. Hence this form of imagination 
has been marked off as Productive Imao^ination. 

It is important to add that while the reproductive processes thus 
underlie and sustain production, there is a reciprocal effect. As we 
shall see presently, productive imagination by contributing new images 
and combinations of these supplies further materials to the memory. 
A child is rightly said to " learn," that is, retain, the facts of history 
and so forth which it apprehends by way of imagination. 

This production of new images and groups of images 
out of old materials appears in different forms. In its 
earlier phases it is comparatively passive and uncon- 
scious, the memory-elements rearranging themselves^ 



EEPEODUCTION AND NEW PEODUCTION. 267 

SO to speak, under the sway of some feeling, such as the 
love of the marvellous. The groups of images which 
arise in consciousness during sleep and form our dreams, 
and much of the wilder kind of " childish fancy," illus- 
trate this more automatic form of production. From this 
lower form we must distinguish imagination in its higher 
sense, in which the whole mind is active, and in which 
there is a controlling and directive action of the will. 
This may be illustrated by the methodical process which 
is carried out by a student in realising a historical narra- 
tive. This more active and methodical form of imagina- 
tive activity is known as Constructive Imagination. 

The Constructive Process, (a) The process of con- 
structing new images, like all intellectual elaboration, 
requires first of all certain materials. These are memory- 
images revived by the processes of suggestion. Thus a 
child in trying to form an idea of an African desert or of 
the Spanish Armada necessarily sets out with certain 
facts of his own experience recalled by memory, such as 
the familiar stretch of sand on the seashore, or a fleet 
once seen at Portsmouth or elsewhere. 

It follows that the excellence of the constructive pro- 
cess is, in every case, limited by the fulness and the 
clearness of the memory-images. Unless a child has 
seen objects resembling those now heard of, and can call 
up clear images of them, the whole process of construc- 
tion is arrested. The child that can most clearly recall 
the appearance, the glare and heat of the sand on a 
summer day will, other things being equal, most readily 
form an idea of the desert. 

(6) The images of memory thus recalled at once undergo 
modification. They tend to form a new organic whole. 



268 PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

This formation is aided in all cases — in that of the child 
picturing the desert, as well as in that of the poet 
creating a scene in Hades — by the automatic rearrange- 
ment spoken of above. This supplies what may be 
called the first draft-image. It is the rough outline 
which has to be carefully filled in or developed after- 
wards. It is this detailed development of the draft-image 
which illustrates the orderly process of construction. 
The mind here goes in search of material, and carefully 
compares and selects what is fitting, what helps to make 
the image more complete and more " real ". 

This part of the process illustrates the action of an 
enlightened, will. When an artist elaborates a new idea, 
say, for a picture, his selection of this and that feature is 
a process of volition, a choice of what is recognised as 
good for his purpose, what will combine harmoniously 
and pleasingly with the other elements selected. This 
choice is clearly guided by a sense of what is fitting, 
that is to say, by a discriminative judgment. The 
finer this judgment the better the result. The great poet 
is one who not only has a great wealth of imagery, but a 
fine sense of esthetic fitness and harmony. 

The process will assume a slightly difi'erent form 
according to the special aim which controls it. In 
artistic construction, as we have just seen, it is a sense 
of beauty, of harmony, which determines the rejection of 
this imaginative element, the selection of that. On 
the other hand, a child when imagining a desert, a 
glacier, or other strange object is guided by a sense of 
consistency and of truth. He wants to understand, and 
he tries so to combine his material as to produce an m- 
telligible whole. 



IMAGINATIVE CONSTRUCTION. 269 

I have illustrated the process of constructive elabora- 
tion in two dissimilar lines of activity, the understand- 
ing of a description of an unknown object, and artistic 
invention. Although both of these processes are in- 
tellectual construction, i.e., elaboration of materials 
gained by way of sense-perception into new imaginative 
forms, that of artistic production is of a much higher 
kind. It involves origination, creation, as distinguished 
from a mere imaginative assimilation of another's ideas, 
which, tliough a process of activity, is a simpler pro- 
cess, and by contrast may be called reception. The 
poet's work in picturing a new scene, and combining a 
series of such scenes into a w^ork of art, is a highly com- 
plex process, and presupposes a rare variety of intellect. 
There is many a child who can follow a geographical 
description, and appreciate a fairly simple poem, but 
who would be quite incapable of creating new ideas for 
himself. It is the same with scientific knowledge. It 
is one thing to assimilate a fact discovered by an- 
other and well described ; quite another thing to dis- 
cover a fact for oneself by a process of constructive 
invention. 

Various Directions of Constructive Activity. 
The process of imaginative construction just described 
follows different directions, which differ by reason partly 
of the nature of the material used, partly of the special 
aim controlling the process. These may be conveniently 
classed under the following heads : (A) Intellectual 
Imagination, or that process of construction which sub- 
serves knowledge. This again may be subdivided into 
the following : (1) Imagination, as aiding in the know- 
ledge of sensible objects, their qualities and their relations. 



270 PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

This is what is commonly thought of as imagination 
in connection with intellectual instruction. It may be 
marked off as tlie Imaginative Apprehension of the Ex- 
ternal World. (2) Closely related to this is the process 
of imaginative construction as employed about facts of 
inner experience, thoughts, feelings and desires, whether 
those of ourselves, in certain supposable circumstances, of 
other persons, or of the lower animals so far as they are 
known to share in our experiences. This may be called 
the Imaginative Apprehension of the Inner World. 
This direction of imaginative activity, while furthering 
knowledge, stands, as we shall see, in close relation to 
Sympathy and to the whole process of Moral develop- 
ment. (3) A third variety has to do with the construction 
of ideas of new actions, ranging from simple movements 
such as are required to produce a new effect, say, a 
verbal sound or a written word, up to complex actions, 
such as are involved in learning to play a new musical 
instrument, or in fitting together material things, so as to 
obtain a new mechanical device. This variety is charac- 
terised in part by the presence and prominence of motor 
ideas (ideas of our own movements) together with their 
external results. As such, although it is intellectual in 
the sense that it furthers our knowledge how to do 
things and to produce new external results, i't is essen- 
tially "practical, and forms an important constituent in 
the development of our active powers. Moreover, 
when it involves the invention of new aims as well as 
of the agencies or means which lead to the realisation 
of these, it becomes an important constituent in the 
whole process of volitional and moral development. 
This may be appropriately called Practical Construction, 



DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS OF CONSTRUCTION. 271 

This will be dealt with again in treating of the develop- 
ment of voluntary action. 

(B) From these forms of imaginative activity, each of 
which subserves knowledge of some kind, we must mark 
off that form which is controlled by feeling, and which 
subserves emotional gratification. This is illustrated in 
the " play " of imagination in day-dreaming, where the 
whole process is sustained and directed by the pleasurable 
feeling which accompanies it. Such mental picturing of 
things is not resorted to because it helps us to know the 
real world — it may take us far away from reality into the 
region of the impossible ; we indulge in it solely because of 
the gratification it yields us. Since the highest form of 
this feeling-controlled imagination appears in connection 
with the appreciation and enjoyment of beauty in nature 
and art it may conveniently be marked off as JSsthetic 
Imagination. 

(A) (1) Imaginative Apprehension of the External 
World. A moment's thought will show us that every ex- 
tension of our knowledge beyond the bounds of personal 
observation involves some amount of imaginative activity. 
This is seen alike in the acquisition of new knowledge 
from others respecting things, and in the independent 
discovery of new facts of the outer world by anticipa- 
tion or imaginative prevision. The first is the lower or 
receptive form of intellectual imagination, the second the 
higher and more originative. 

(a) Imagination and the Acquisition of Know- 
ledge. The process of recalling, selecting and regroup- 
ing the deposits of past experience is illustrated in every 
case of acquiring knowledge from others through the 
medium of language. What is ordinarily called " learn- 



272 PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

ing," wlietlier by oral communication or by books, is by 
no means simply an exercise of memory : it involves a 
peculiar exercise of the imagination. All that is directly 
presented to the learner by the teacher is a series of 
verbal sounds. In order that the meaning of these pre- 
sented word-symbols may be realised, it is necessary 
for the learner to develop suitable and distinct mental 
images of the objects described. In other words he 
must imaginatively construct a suitable group of ideas.^ 

In order to illustrate this process of constructive reali- 
sation let us take the case of a parent or teacher 
describing a glacier to a child. She begins, we will 
suppose, by questioning him about his experience and 
previous knowledge of ice, mountains, and waterfalls. 
Here we see at once that the constructive process sets 
out with a use of previously acquired images. 

At first only a vague " general idea " of the glacier is 
reached, say a big, big, frozen torrent ; then, as fresh 
touches are added, this outline or " schema" of an imagi- 
native representation becomes precise, as the French say, 
that is, made definite by the incorporation of charac- 
teristic details. Thus the mental picture of the glacier 
grows more clear as the crevasses, the moraine at the 
side, and other details are described. 

We thus see that the whole process of formative imagi- 
nation is carried out by a modification, an adaptation to 

^ The student must beware of our misleading way of describing 
teaching as a presentation of ideas. This way of speaking is apt to 
blind one to the important differences between coming to know an 
object from direct inspection of it and from hearing a description of it. 
When a child follows a verbal description he does so by taking the pre- 
nented matter, the words, and imaginatively interpreting them. 



THE CONSTRUCTIVE PROCESS IN LEARNING. 273 

a new purpose, of ideas already possessed by the learner's 
mind ; and further, that the gradual development of a 
distinct image proceeds by a series of determinations ^ 
i.e., the transformation of a vague outline into a full, 
detailed picture. The process may be compared with 
that of the gradual differentiation of a germ-cell by seg- 
mentation into a number of unlike parts. 

This last feature of the process is closely connected 
with the use of language. Words are, as we shall see 
presently, abstract symbols, and in order to interpret 
them pictorially the mind has, as Dr. Bain has it, to 
" reduce the abstract to the concrete ". Thus, if I try to 
give to a boy an idea of Othello by saying that he was a 
big dark-skinned man with curly black hair, turban, 
etc., it is evident that I excite in his mind a number of 
general ideas corresponding to " big," " dark-skinned," 
and the rest. It is only by a sufficient combination of 
such verbal symbols that the learner is able to arrive at 
a clear individual representation of the object described. 
This same process of reducing abstract symbols to concrete 
representations is seen yet more "clearly in following the 
verbal description of an unknown species of plant or 
animal.^ 

Here, as in other acquisition of knowledge, a double 
process of assimilation and discrimination is carried out. 
A child has to assimilate a description of an object, or a 
historical narrative, by mentally bringing it into its proper 
relations of similarity to his familiar experiences. It is 
well said by Lange that when a child transports himself 

1 On the nature of this imaginative process, see Lloyd Morgan, 
Psychology for Teachers, p. 7 ; and G. F. Stout, Analytic Psychology^ 
vol. ii., p. 267. 
19 



274 PKODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

into the unknown and distant region of Bible History, 
tliere come " to the help of the new names certain 
familiar and similar notions". Goltz and others have 
shown how the childish mind spontaneously translates 
the new into the old, how he apperceives the new verbal 
presentation by help of familiar home experiences.^ 

But assimilation or apperception by help of pre-exist- 
ing similar ideas, is not enough for accurate realisation. 
In following the description of a teacher, children, through 
the very necessity of going back to similar ideas, are 
very apt to import too much into their mental picture, 
taking up the particular associations with which their 
individual experience happens to have invested the words 
used. Thus Lange tells us that as a child he " pictured 
chaos to be similar to such a flood as was often caused 
by the Saale River, at a certain place, in the centre of 
which was a pond surrounded by gloomy lime and 
willow trees ".- A child has a passion for reading the 
concrete facts of his experience into the descriptions and 
narratives he hears. Hence in order to an accurate 
grasp of meaning he has to be led to discriminate, to 
recognise the points of difference between the new and 
the old. 

On the success of this imaginative effort depends to 
an important extent what is known as the understand- 
ing of the description. Understanding is exercising 
reason or thought, and is not the same as imagination, 
yet it is aided by the latter. If, for example, the imagi- 
nation of a child, in following a description of an ice- 
berg, does not represent, roughly at least, its great size, 

^ Sec Lange's volume, Apperception, p. 70 ff. 
2 Op. cit., p. 72. 



LEARNING AND DISCOVERING. 275 

he will not be prepared to understand the dangers 
arising to ships from such a floating mass. Here we see 
the close relation between clear imagination and clear 
thinking, a relation to be spoken of again by-and-by. 

(b) Imagination and Discovery. The discovery of 
new facts and the laws which govern these is largely a 
matter of careful observation and of patient reasoning 
from ascertained facts and truths. Yet imagination has an 
important role here also. The inquiring, searching mind 
is always moving forward into the region of the un- 
known in the form of conjecturings, as — How would 
this substance behave if placed in such and such con- 
ditions ? To guess a fact, whether it be a secret of 
Nature or a secret known to another, involves the bring- 
ing to bear on the problem of elements of our previous 
knowledge, and the making of various tentative com- 
binations of these elements, until we feel we are 
getting near the desired solution. It is by such imagi- 
native experiments that the student of Nature penetrates 
into her mysteries. What is called the " scientific imagi- 
nation " implies first of all a good accumulation of know- 
ledge to start with, and then a facility in inventing new 
suppositions or "hypotheses" — guesses as to this and that 
fact or law — which have afterwards to be tested or veri- 
fied. A child shows a rude germ of this scientific capa- 
bilit}^ when he tries by help of his previous knowledge 
to imagine how his toys are made, how the clock is put 
together and made to go, how the plants grow, and so 
forth. 

(A) (2) Imaginative Apprehension of Inner World: 
Moral Directions of Imagination. The second direc- 
tion of intellectual imagination concerns itself with the 



276 ' PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

facts of the inner life, with the ideas, feelinofs, lonofinpfg 
of the mind. Knowledge of these facts underlies all that 
mutual understanding which makes social intercourse 
possible, all that we call sympathy, and, further, all tlie 
higher developments of the individual's moral character. 

At first it might sound strange to speak of imagining 
another's forlorn hope, or passionate joy : imagination 
seems to have to do with things of sense. And it is no 
doubt true that when dwelling on the facts of inner ex- 
perience we carry out a kind of process of abstraction, 
withdrawing our attention to some extent from the more 
impressive and more easily apprehended objects of sense. 
Hence the very slight amount of attention bestowed by 
children in general on these inner experiences. Still, to 
represent another's particular state of mind in a given 
set of circumstances is to apprehend a concrete fact, and 
is properly called an exercise of the imagination. 

In this apprehension there is a true process of con- 
struction precisely similar to that by which external 
objects are apprehended. A child imagines how he would 
feel and act if placed in the position, say, of Prince 
Arthur in the Tower, by help of materials gathered from 
his own experience of confinement and despairing misery. 
There is here, too, a process of rearrangement directed to 
the formation of a clear and adequate idea, adequate, 
that is, to the purpose of understanding what is pre- 
sented. 

It is evident further that in this case also we have the 
distinction between a more passive process of appre- 
hension and an originative process of discovery. This 
applies even to the apprehension of another's feelings, 
intentions, and so forth, by help of sense-observation. It 



MORAL FUNCTION OF IMAGINATION. 277 

is comparatively easy for a child to read off the emotional 
signs of cheerfulness or " crossness " in a teacher ; much 
more difficult to find his way to the fact by a process of 
imaginative inference from the teacher's actions. The 
same applies to those experiences which are presented 
indirectly by the medium of verbal description. In 
following an account of a pathetic story a child's imagi- 
nation is moving obediently to the lead of the teacher's 
words ; in " thinking " or imagining out Row a particular 
historical or other person is likely to feel or act in given 
circumstances he is much more of a discoverer. 

Closely connected with this imaginative apprehension 
of other minds is the moral direction of imaginative 
activity. Under this head may be comprehended the 
imaginative realisation of new states of feeling and 
desire so far as this furthers moral development. Thus 
it is an important moral exercise of the imagination 
when a child represents the results of a good or bad 
action. A large demand is made on the imagination, as 
we shall see later on, in all moral sympathy. A child 
develops morally by sympathetically realising others' 
feelings and mental states generally. Imaginative ac- 
tivity enters further into the development of new and 
higher forms of desire and aspiration. In youth, more 
particularly, the directions of desire and efibrt are largely 
swayed by ideal representations, the product of an 
ardent and intense imaginative activity carried out on 
material supplied by the character of teacher or other 
model — possibly some hero of history or fiction. 

(A) (3) Practical Contrivance. A similar process 
of construction enters into the acquisition of the several 
practical aptitudes, such as the use of the voice in speaking 



278 PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

and singing, and all manual abilities, both mechanical and 
artistic. In developing any one of these practical abilities 
the learner is called on to reproduce what has already 
been learnt, and to recombine known elements in con- 
formity with new circumstances and new needs. Thus 
in learning to carry objects to the mouth, and, later, to 
use the comb and brush, tools and so forth, a child re- 
adjusts previous acquisitions, fitting them to the new aim 
of the moment. * Facility in carrying out such modifica- 
tions of previously acquired ideas of movements and 
their results is what we call practical contrivance or 
inventiveness. 

Here, again, we may distinguish between a recep- 
tive and a more oris^inal form of construction. Much 
of a child's motor acquisition is imitative, and so 
receptive. This is illustrated plainly enough in a 
large part of children's play, which is a mimicry of the 
serious actions of adults. The exercises of the school, 
such as singing, writing, the movements of drilling, and 
so forth, illustrate the same process. In all such imita- 
tive assimilation of movements certain new groupings 
of motor elements, new adjustments of means and ends, 
have to be learnt under the guidance of an external 
model or " copy ". 

From this lower and receptive form of practical con- 
trivance we must mark off the higher form of free in- 
vention. Children find out many new combinations of 
movement with little, if any, guidance from others. The 
desire to do something new in order to meet the needs 
of a new situation acts as a stimulus to the child's mind, 
exciting the memory-images of this and that action. By 
successive tentatives, in which the form of previous 



PRACTICAL CONSTEUCTION. 279 

movements is modified, an approach is, under favourable 
circumstances, made to the needed combination. All 
mechanical invention — that is, combining motor agencies 
in new ways so as to secure new results, as, for example, 
in inventing a new machine — illustrates the same mental 
process. 

Much of this new constructive work is the outcome of 
the impulse of curiosity, the desire to find out about 
things. In other words, it is of the nature of scientific 
experiment In this way the impulse to find out how to 
do things reacts on the more intellectual impulse to 
understand about things. A considerable part of a 
child's inventive activity, as when he rolls his ball, 
throws things into the water, and so forth, is motived 
by the experimental impulse, the desire to see what will 
happen in certain circumstances. Much of a boy's 
knowledge of things is thus gained experimentally, that 
is to say, by means of actively dividing, joining to- 
gether, and otherwise manipulating objects. 

(B) Esthetic Imagination. Esthetic Imagination 
is distinguished from the forms just considered in being 
subservient, not to the attainment of knowledge, whether 
theoretical or practical, but to the satisfaction of feel- 
ing. We illustrate this when we " day-dream," or let 
our imagination " go " for the pure pleasure which the 
sequence of images brings us. This illustration suggests 
that the unity of the constructive process is here due to 
the control of a dominant feeling , such as the love of the 
marvellous. It is under the influence of this dominant 
feeling that the mind selects its images, combining them 
in forms which best harmonise with, and so give full 
gratification to, the feeling. 



280 PEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Children's imaginative activity is very much under 
this sway of feeling. An imaginative child of four or 
six loves to build up a fairyland or region of romance, 
decked out with the brightest colour-s, and greatly sur- 
passing in its beauty, its wondrous events and adventures, 
all that the everyday world presents. 

Here, again, we may distinguish between a more re- 
ceptive and a creative variety of imaginative activity. 
The former is illustrated in children's ready assimilation 
and enjoyment of fairy-tales and romantic stories. In 
this case the activity, though sustained b}^ pleasurable 
feeling, is directed by the external form of the presented 
story. Where, on the other hand, a child invents a story 
for himself the whole process is freer, being determined 
merely by the feeling-tone of the images and their com- 
bination, that is to say, the impulse to produce some- 
thing thrilling and intensely enjoyable. The highest 
form of this aesthetic creation is seen in the originative 
construction of the poet. Here we have a rich store of 
ideas, the product of tine and wide observation, and a 
careful process of selection under the guidance of a re- 
fined and trained taste. An element of intellectuality 
enters into the process in the shape of a regard for tlie 
truth of things, the preservation in the ideal creation of 
a certain verisimilitude. 

Use and Abuse of the Imagination. It follows 
from what we have said that imagination has at once its 
proper use and value, and an accompanying danger. We 
have seen that imaginative activity is the source of pure 
pleasure, and is further an essential element in the pro- 
cess of moral development. At the same time we know 
that the " pleasures of the imagination " can easily be 



USE AND ABUSE OF IMAGINATION. 281 

indulged in to excess. A ^^outh whose mind dwells too 
long and too intently on the exciting wonders of romance 
may grow discontented with his actual surroundings 
and so morally unfit for the work and duties of life. Or, 
what comes to much the same thing, he may learn to 
satisfy himself with these imaginative indulgences ; and so 
by the habitual severance of feeling from action gradually 
become incapable of deciding and acting, a result illus- 
trated by the history of Coleridge and other " dreamers ". 
Coming now to the intellectual aspect, we have seen 
that imaginative activity enters as an essential ingredient 
into the processes by which knowledge is reached. At 
the same time it is a commonplace that a very vivid in- 
dulgence of the imagination may lead to such an exag- 
gerated realisation of the objects imagined as to give 
rise to illusion, as in the case of the dreamy child or 
novel-reader. In this way the boundaries of fact and 
fiction, the real and the ideal, are apt to be effaced. 
Even when the indulgence fails to produce this effect the 
habitual sway of the imagination by feeling is apt to 
give violence and capriciousness to its movements, and so 
to unfit it for the quieter and more serious quest of truth. 
It is a characteristic of strong feeling that it prevents a 
fine discriminating vision of facts, and leads to vagueness 
of view and to exaggeration. If, for example, a child is 
powerfully affected by the pathetic aspect of an historical 
incident, say the execution of Mary of Scotland, his 
mind, fascinated by this aspect of the event, will be un- 
fitted to enter fully and impartially into all the cir- 
cumstances of the case, so as to arrive at a complete 
understanding of the whole, and a just appreciation 
of the right and wrong of the action. 



282 PEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Intellectual Function of Imagination. The evils 
attendant on the more exciting and uncontrolled forma 
of imaginative activity have led many to think little of 
its intellectual value. Thus it has been customary to 
oppose the Imagination to the serious truth -loving Under- 
standing. To the ordinary practical intelligence the 
imagination is apt to seem a useless ornamental appen- 
dage to the mind, serving, like the peacock's tail, only to 
retard its progress. Even writers on the human mind 
have followed the popular judgment so far as to form a 
low estimate of the intellectual services of imagination. 
Yet, while it is undeniable that imagination when sub- 
jected to the caprices of feeling is obstructive to the finer 
intellectual work, it is no less undeniable that in its 
calmer and more disciplined form it is a vital factor in 
the process of cognition. By far the larger part of our 
knowledge of the surface of our planet, of the past his- 
tory of our race, of the inner world of human feeling and 
thought is acquired by strenuous exertions of imagina- 
tive activity. Learning through the medium of words is 
largely an imaginative process, imagination being aided 
by the activity of thought in the detection of the rela- 
tions and connections of the facts imaginatively realised. 
Children of bright imagination are consequently better 
learners in general than unimaginative ones. Imagina- 
tion remains, too, an integral part of intelligence in its 
higher and more impressive developments. A man of 
ready insight, quick to apprehend a new fact, a new 
situation, a new idea, is essentially an imaginative man. 
The greatest intellects, sa}^ those of the scientific 
discoverer and the poet, are imaginative intellects. 
We are justified, therefore, in treating of the im- 



IMAGINATION AND INTELLECT. 283 

a-^inative process as an integral part of the intellectual 
processes. 

Early Developments of Imagination. We found 
that the appearance of ideation under its simple form of 
reproductive imagination depends on a certain develop- 
ment of sense-perception and fixing of percepts. In like 
manner productive imagination depends on a certain 
development of memory, that is, the formation of a store 
of memory-images. A child must be able distinctly to 
recall his previous sense-experiences before he can build 
up anticipations of what is going to happen. Similarly 
it is only as he acquires distinct motor images corre- 
sponding to movements already carried out that he can 
construct ideas of new movements. 

Beginnings of Imaginative Activity. An infant 
may be said to show a germ of imagination when he 
anticipates some new experience, as when something new 
is held out for him to take ; yet it is not till language 
begins to be mastered that imaginative activity becomes 
clearly marked. It is in listening to the simple narra- 
tions and descriptions of the mother or nurse that the 
process of fashioning new images is first exercised. It 
is noteworthy* that children only manifest interest in 
new stories after their minds have been first trained to 
follow verbal recitals of their own experiences. As M. 
Perez observes, a child of twenty months will delight in 
recounting his own little experiences, though he is not 
yet keen to hear stories (First Three Years of Child- 
hood, p. 96). That is to say, production follows in the 
wake of reproduction. When once a child has attained to 
readiness in reproducing his own experiences he will dis- 
play interest in new recitals. As Madame Necker ob- 



284 PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

serves : '* The pleasure which the narration of the most 
simple stories affords children is connected with the vivacity 
of the images in their minds. The pictures which we call 
up in their minds are perhaps more brilliant and of 
richer colouring than the real objects would be." That 
their mental imagery is thus vivid, and that they realise 
what is narrated with great intensity, is shown in a num- 
ber of Avays, as, for example, in the impulse to act out 
the story, in the habit of returning to the story and 
talking about its characters and incidents, as also in the 
jealous concern for a strict fidelity to the original version 
when the story is repeated. 

Children's Fancy. After a certain amount of ex- 
ercise of imaginative construction in this simple receptive 
form, children commonly show a spontaneous disposition 
to invent fancies of their own. This inventive activity 
of children's imagination is one of the most striking of 
their characteristic mental traits. It looks as if the im- 
pulse of creation prompting them to make something like 
what they have seen or heard, and the pleasurable excite- 
ment which comes from the first use of a new power, lead 
most children from about the age of three or four to 
throw much of their cerebral activity into this direction. 
Whatever the explanation the fact is unquestionable, and 
it is a fact with which the educator has to reckon. The 
crudity of the ideas put forth, the absence of well- 
arranged plan, and especially of a guiding sense of truth 
or probability, lead us to describe these early exercises of 
the imagination as the play of " childish fancy ". 

At first the activity of this childish fancy connects 
itself closely with the perception of actual objects. This 
connecting: of the ideal with the real is illustrated in 



SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITY OF FANCY. 285 

children's play. Play is the outcome of a number of 
impulses, all strong in the early years, e.g., the love of 
activity and the impulse of imitation. It is, moreover, a 
striking exhibition of the intensity and the vivifying power 
of childish fancy. When at play a child realises, by 
means of a lively imaginative activity which older people 
often fail to understand, the objects and situations which 
he is representing. The presence of a real object, the 
stick which serves as hobby-horse, the wisp of straw which 
does for a doll, supplies a basis of sensuous reality on 
which the imagination can the more easily construct its 
fabric. By the " alchemy of imagination," as it has been 
called, the stick or the wisp of straw becomes for the child 
more than half transformed into a living thing. It 
may have only the remotest resemblance to what is 
pictured ; yet it is an object of sense that can be touched, 
and it serves as a hint, so to speak, of the glorious idea. 
Play thus illustrates in a striking manner the liveliness 
of children's fancy. In their spontaneous games they 
are always acting a part, making themselves believe that 
they are Indians, Robinson Crusoe^, or what not. Under 
this aspect their play is akin to the acting of the stage, 
and has in it something of artistic invention. 

This exuberance of imaginative activity shows itself 
commonly too in another form. A quite young child 
who has heard a number of stories will display great 
activity in modelling new ones. These fabrications 
show the influence of the child's own experience and ob- 
servation as well as of the stories heard from others. 
At this period spontaneous fancy is apt to assume ex- 
travagant shapes. So common an object as a stone is 
treated as having sensation and feeling, or, if it happens 



286 PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

to have a lioltj in it, may be transformed into the dwell- 
ing-place of fairies. A strong susceptibility to the 
excitement of the marvellous and a childish love of what 
is odd and grotesque often supply the impelling force in 
these early productions. Young children are wont to 
project themselves in fancy to distant regions of space, 
and to transform themselves into all manner of objects. 
Thus a child barely three years old was accustomed to 
indulge in the pleasing fancy of living in the water with 
the fishes, of being a beautiful star in the sky, and so 
forth. Tlie daring of these combinations is to a consider- 
able extent accounted for by the child's ignorance of 
what is impossible and improbable. Judgment as to 
truth, and probability comes later, as the result of re- 
flection on a wide experience. To the young mind to fly up 
into the sky is an idea which has nothing absurd about it.^ 
Imagination brought under Control. The growth 
of knowledge and the development of the mental pro- 
cesses as a whole lead to marked changes in the activity 
of imagination. From the first spontaneous and lawless 
form, in which it is free to follow every capricious im- 
pulse, it passes into the more disciplined form in which 
it is controlled by an enlightened will. That is to say, 
its activity becomes more and more directed by the sense 
of what is true and probable. This process of develop- 
ment shows itself even with respect to fiction itself. As 
soon as a child gets a clearer idea of the general forms 
and conditions of human experience the old nursery 
tales cease to please. Stories, the action of which con- 

1 The characteristics of children's imagination are more fully de- 
scribed in my volume, Studies of Childhood, chap. ii. ("The Age of 
Imagination "). 



DISCIPLINED IMAGINATIVE ACTIVITY. 287 

forms to the lixed circumstances and laws of real life, 
e.g., histories of children, their doings and experiences, 
take their place. In this way the earlier impulses, such 
as the love of the marvellous and a feeling for the gro- 
tesque and ridiculous, are restrained by the addition of 
more intellectual motives, a desire to learn about things, 
and a regard for what is true to nature and life ; and this 
result is seen still more clearly in the gradual subjection 
of the imagination in all orderly processes of learning to 
the ends of knowledge and truth. As youth progresses, 
more and more of imaginative activity is absorbed in 
reading and learning about the facts of the real world. 

Later Growth of Imagination. While the develop- 
ment of the higher processes of thought tends in this 
way to restrain and guide the movements of childish 
fancy, it is a mistake to suppose that imaginative power 
ceases to grow. We are apt to attribute to children a 
specially high degree of imaginativeness just because we 
are struck by the boldness of their conceits, their re- 
moteness from the familiar forms of our experience. Yet 
the same child who performs one of these " feats of 
imagination " would show himself very slow and inept, 
as compared with an educated adult, in constructing a 
clear mental representation of an unknown natural phe- 
nomenon, such as a Swiss mountain, or of a historical event. 
This suggests that what we call imaginative construction 
goes on developing with the gradual assimilation of the 
fruits of experience, as well as with repeated exercises 
in constructive activity. A precisely similar change 
takes place, as Mr. Herbert Spencer has shown, in the 
development of imagination in the race.^ 

^ Principles of Psychology, ii., §§ 491, 492. 



288 PEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

This higher development of the imaginative facultv 
implies an increased facility in rearranging the ele- 
ments of experience within the liinits of the possible. 
Thus by repeated exercises of the imagination a student 
of botany or zoology grows ready and skilled in the 
realisation of the description of a new plant or animal ; 
and combinations of a greater degree of complexity than 
is possible to the child, as in representing the whole con- 
dition of England in the reign of Elizabeth, or the intri- 
cate action of Paradise Lost, become possible. In like 
manner the creative form of imagination grows more 
facile and comprehensive in consequence of a larger 
accumulation of experience-material, and repeated ex- 
ercises. 

Varieties of Imaginative Power. Different indi- 
viduals differ in respect of their imaginative power no 
less markedly perhaps than with respect to their repro- 
ductive power. These differences, again, may roughly be 
marked off as general and special. A particular boy or 
girl may display superior constructive ability generally, 
being ready alike in representing new external scenes 
and sounds, new modes of human experience, and so 
forth. In most cases, however, excellence in imaginative 
capability shows itself in some special direction. Thus 
we meet among children with a specially good imagina- 
tion now for visible objects, now for musical combina- 
tions, now for practical expedients. Still more special 
developments present themselves in the geographical, the 
historical, the geometrical imagination, and so on. 

These differences depend partly on differences in native 
endowment and bent, with which we must i-eckon the 
innate germs of special interest, and partly on differences 



VARIATIONS OF IMAGINATIVE POWER. 289 

in the surroundings, including the influence of the home 
and early companionship, and special exercise and training. 
Children appear to differ from the first in their con- 
structive power as a whole : they have at the outset 
more or less of that cerebral endowment which under- 
lies a ready breaking up and regrouping of experience- 
wholes. We can very early observe, too, that the imagi- 
native activity, like the retentive power on which it 
depends, shows a special bent, corresponding to the 
natural superiority and more absorbing activity of a par- 
ticular sense. One child may live imaginatively more 
in a world of sights, another more in a world of tones, 
and so forth. Special likings and interests, too, have 
much to do with fixing the particular lines of imagi- 
native development followed out. A strong natural 
liking for the observation and the discovery of nature's 
phenomena leads a boy to exercise his imagination in 
relation to these, whereas the direction of feeling towards 
the beautiful aspect of things would give to the imagina- 
tion more of an aiiistic turn. 

While in this way the difference? observable in children's 
imagination are in part predetermined by natural aptitude 
and feeling, the influence of surroundings and of educa- 
tion is a considerable one. Systematic training will 
never succeed in developing in a naturally unimaginative 
child a fine faculty of imagination, yet it may materially 
improve the power, and even raise it to the height of a 
fairly good aptitude in some special direction. 

Measurement of Imaginative Power. It is not easy to deviso 

means for an accurate measurement of imaginative power. Mr. 

Galton's researches on the ability to " visualise " familiar objects, as the 

breakfast- table, have to do merely with reproductive imagination. 

20 



290 PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Children might be roughly tested as to the readiness and exactness of 
their imaginative construction by being asked to draw, and also to give 
a short verbal re-statement (in their own words as far as possible) of, an 
object, scene or action which has just been described to them. A 
methodical questioning of them as to how their minds envisage the 
object would be helpful here. The imaginative power might further 
be tested roughly by encouraging story-inventions. 

Constructive activity in special directions and under a particular set 
of conditions may be tested. Thus Professor Ebbinghaus has devised 
the ingenious experiment of setting school children a piece of defective 
print, in which syllables and whole words are wanting, in order to see how 
quickly their minds can fill in the gaps, so as to reconstruct an intelli- 
gible whole. Practical constructiveness, or inventive ability, can much 
more readily be estimated. 

EDUCATIONAL CONTROL OF IMAGINATION. 

Training of the Imagination. The notion that the 
educator has a special work to do in exercising and 
guiding the imagination of the young is a comparatively 
new one. The common supposition of the inutility, not 
to say the mischievous nature, of the faculty has natu- 
rally led to the idea that if education has anything to 
do with a child's imagination, it is solely by way of re- 
pressing its activity. It is to be hoped, however, that a 
clearer apprehension of the scope of imaginative activity, 
and the important part it plays in the work of the in- 
tellect, will turn teachers' attention more and more to 
the problem of developing it. 

As has been pointed out above, the imagination, in 
the undisciplined form of childish fancy, is a precocious 
faculty. Children often show a liveliness and a daring 
in their fancies which astonish their elders. This pre- 
cocity of productive activity points to the need of an 
educational discipline of it in the early stage of mental 
development. 



EDUCATION OF THE IMAGINATION. 291 

Twofold Direction of Imaginative Training. The 
peculiar nature and connections of the imaginative pro- 
cess, its relation to intellectual activity on one side and 
to the play of feeling on the other, give rise to educa- 
tional problems of peculiar difficulty. The teacher must 
it is evident, keep in mind the several functions or uses 
of this mental aptitude if he would assign it its proper 
place in a systematic plan of education. Yet he must no 
less persistently keep his eye fixed on the dangers of un- 
bridled fancy. 

(a) Restraining Fancy. Beginning with the latter 
aspect, we may say that the educator has to exercise to 
some extent a negative or repressive control over early 
imagination. He will do well to remember that, as Miss 
Edge worth observes, imagination, hke fire, " is a good 
servant but a bad master ". Owing to the ignorance of 
children about nature and life, and their natural dis- 
position to fear, the possession of a lively imagination, 
leading to an intensely vivid realisation of the stories re- 
lated to them, exposes them to special dangers. Locke 
and others have shown how dread of the dark and other 
miseries of childhood spring out of a perverted imagi- 
nation. In many cases at least stories about hobgoblins 
and other gruesome figures may excite children's imagi- 
nation to a pitch which is morally dangerous and even 
disturbing to health. The tendency of their mind to 
accept as real all that is imagined shows itself in the 
effects of their dreams, which are apt, especially in the 
case of nervous and sensitive children, to take a danger- 
ous hold on their minds. The educator should re- 
member too that by suggesting to an imaginative 
child a certain idea, he is apt to arouse imaginative 



292 PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

activity and produce belief in its reality.^ All this 
goes to show that those who have the care of young 
children should take pains to ward off too exciting and 
especially painful fancies, and to avoid carelessly sug- 
gesting these. Not only so, a tendency to be mentally 
absorbed in " the pleasures of imagination," more especi- 
ally those of day-dreaming, should be corrected by calling 
forth the activities of the child's mind in grappling with 
real facts, and in carrying out interesting and useful 
kinds of work. 

In this curbing of childish fancy, however, much 
discriminative judgment is needed. Certain writers on 
education appear to over-estimate the evils of imagina- 
tive indulgence when they suggest that it were well to 
shut out the realm of fiction altogether. It may be said 
that the creation of a supersensible world, the glorious 
realm of fairyland, is natural and appropriate to child- 
hood. It is the source of much pure delight, and the 
fond illusion which enters into it tends in ordinary cases 
to disappear with so little sense of conflict that its harm- 
ful effects become inappreciable. It is only in special 
cases, where there is a dangerously lively fancy and a 
too absorbing occupation with the imaginary world, that 
a decided interference on the part of the educator is 
called for. 

X(h) Cultivating the Imagination. While the edu- 
ator has thus to check the activity of youthful fancy in 
certain directions, he has also an important function to 

1 This lias been illustrated by the fact that children of abnormally 
vivid imagination tend to believe that they have actually seen what 
has merely been suggested to them by another's words. See Motet's 
curious work, Les faux tenioignages des enfants devant la justice. 



NEGATIVE AND POSITIVE CULTUBE. 293 

discharge in aiding to develop it. In truth, as Madame 
Necker tells us, " we only restrain the imagination when 
we exercise it ". We do well to remember that the play- 
ful activity of the fancy at this early period is valuable 
as a preparation for the serious intellectual work of 
later years. Just as the infant's plump unformed hand, 
by its seemingly idle and purposeless manipulations of 
whatever comes within reach, is acquiring strength and 
precision of movement for the labours of after-life, so 
the imagination develops into a strong and flexible organ 
by what are apt to seem to older people foolish indul- 
gences. 

In this cultivation of the imagination the educator has 
to direct its activity into healthy channels, and to sub- 
ject it to the discipline of a methodical procedure. The 
narration of a good story in a clear, orderly manner con- 
stitutes a disciplinary exercise. Such exercises, which 
should be carried out in the home before school-discipline 
begins, train the young mind in fixing the attention and 
in following out steadily, and progressively realising as a 
whole, a series of representations. The early culture of 
imagination by such simple exercises in the home is a 
necessary preparation for its later and more difficult 
work in the school. 

In this training of the imagination we must attend 
to the natural laws of the process. Thus the educator 
should take care that the child has the requisite stock of 
memory-images, and should begin with comparatively 
easy exercises, involving simple ideas (that is, ideas made 
up of few elements) and ideas closely related in their 
whole form as well as in their constituent parts to childish 
experiences and observations. A child may well be 



294 PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

called on to picture mentally a snow mountain, because 
he has seen the snow and some hill, or at least a picture 
of one, and can, moreover, easily combine the two 
by help of some analogous observation of his own, e.g., 
the roof of a house with snow on it. On the other 
hand, it would be foolish to expect a child to imagine so 
complex an idea, one so remote from childish experience, 
as the view of mountains and lakes from the Kip'hi. 

The close connection between vivid imagination and 
feeling makes it desirable in the early stages to appeal to 
childish feeling. The subject to be pictured out by the 
young mind must be pretty, amusing, pathetic, or other- 
wise fitted to rouse a keen childish interest. 

All this suggests that in spite of the attacks made on 
them, the established favourites of the nursery, fairy- 
tales and stories of all kinds, form, by their much 
stronger appeals to childish feeling, the best beginning in 
the culture of imagination.^ In order to secure this edu- 
cational value of stories, however, a wise selection must 
be made. A good deal of so-called children's literature 
is not only morally bad (bad, that is to say, in respect of 
its moral tone), but is unsuitable. It is written too much 
from the grown-up point of view, and in ignorance of 
children's feelings and likings.^ 

Exercise of the Imagination in Teaching. Al- 
though, however, fictitious story forms a valuable means 

1 The fact is clearly discerned by Isaac Taylor in his judicious re- 
marks on the use of fiction, Home Education, chap, ix., p. 260 ff. 

" This has been clearly pointed out by Mr. E. V. Lucas with respect 
to a good deal of the poetry which is said to be suitable for children. 
See his excellent article on " Some Notes on Poetry for Children " in 
the Fortnightly Eevieiv, September, 1896. 



USE OF THE IMAGINATION IN TEACHING. 295 

of cultivating the imagination at first, it needs to be 
followed up by that higher kind of exercise which is in- 
volved in acquiring real know^ledge. All oral teaching, 
as we have seen, proceeds by an appeal to the child's 
imagination. This is apparent even in the beginnings of 
teaching. An intelligent parent who talks to his child 
about the wonders of nature, such as the formation of 
clouds and rain, the movements of the earth and the 
stars, is continually calling forth the learner's imagina- 
tive activity. All teaching, too, of the facts of human 
experience, including the thoughts and actions of the 
wise, the great and the good, opens up another wide and 
attractive arena for the exercise of the imagination. 

As already suggested, there is a special value in this 
exercise of imaginative activity as an ingredient in the 
process of acquiring real knowledge. The necessity laid 
on the young learner of mentally apprehending and 
understanding certain determinate realities disciplines 
the imagination to a careful methodical line of activity. 
It is called upon to move along a definitely prescribed 
path, to make sure of a particular combination such as 
subserves the understanding of what is presented. 

The conditions of a wise and efficient exercise of the 
imagination can be illustrated best of all by a reference 
to those comparatively concrete branches of knowledge 
which make a specially large appeal to this form of 
mental activity. I refer to History and Geography, in 
which it is more especially exercised, and where, con- 
sequently, a knowledge of the laws of its operation will 
be a matter of great importance to the teacher. 

The first thing the teacher has to attend to m such 
teaching is the form of presentation. A suitable form 



296 rRODUCTivE imagination. 

implies a careful selection of the medium of presenta- 
tions, viz., the language used. This must at once be in- 
telligible and forcible in point of suggestiveness. The 
imaginative activity of a child is most effectually evoked 
by simple, thoroughly familiar, and, as far as possible, 
unambiguous words, so that the required ideas and com- 
binations of ideas may be called up instantly. The 
teacher should remember that a child easily misappre- 
hends our words, and more especially is prone to put too 
much of his own observation into them.^ 

In connection with this clear intelligible use of words, 
the teacher should take the child's mind back to its 
oivn past experiences, should remind him of facts in 
his experience, the recollection of which may contri- 
bute to the production of a distinct idea of the place, 
scene, or event. Thus in describing an historical event 
the several features should as far as possible be related 
to analogous events in the child's small world. This re- 
quires a good deal of knowledge both of children's ex- 
perience and of the workings of their minds. In thus 
utilising the child's own experiences, however, the teacher 
should be careful to help him to distinguish the new 
from the old, and not to import into the idea-formation 
any accessories of these experiences which for the pur- 
pose of the lesson are irrelevant and misleading. A 
teacher who had been giving a lesson on Homer to a 
class aged about thirteen, in which she had spoken of the 
old blind poet as wandering from place to place, was 
amused at finding one of her pupils afterwards translat- 
ing the story into terms of everyday experience by de- 

^ Illustrations of such misapprehension of words are given in my 
Studies of Childhood, p. 183 ff. 



METHOD OF TKAINING THE IMAGINATION. 297 

scribing Homer as " going about the streets singing ". 
The perfect avoidance of such erroneous assimilation of 
the new to the old would require a perfect knowledge of 
children's minds. 

Once more, the teacher should follow an orderly plan 
of description corresponding with the natural mode of 
working of imaginative apprehension. He should re- 
member that all knowledge develops by stages froon a 
vague to a definite form. In imaginative construction 
the learner's mind begins with a rough outline or general 
scheme, which gradually grows distinct by the addition 
of individualising features. Thus the description of a 
river, of a coast line, and the like, best begins with a 
general account of its situation, size and shape, and then 
proceeds by a detailed account of particulars. Similarly, 
historical narration, as in describing an event such as the 
defeat of the Spanish Armada, does well to prepare the 
mind of the learner by a short general statement of the 
subject with a reference to the more essential circum- 
stances of the time, which statement supplies to the 
child's mind a general schematic form of idea which can 
afterwards be developed by an orderly unfolding of the 
detailed parts of the occurrence into a precise and accu- 
rate form. 

Again, in successively unfolding the different parts of 
such a complex subject as the history or geography of a 
country, that order should be followed which is most 
favourable to imaginative activity. Thus the progress 
should be, so far as possible, from the known to the 
unknown. In geography, for example, the teacher, after 
a brief elementary account of the earth, starts with the 
child's own locality, and working out from this opens up 



298 PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

little by little distant and unfamiliar regions of the 
earth's surface, where the natural features and types of 
human life are widely different. 

Again, in adapting such lore to the needs of childish 
imagination, the teacher should take up what is relatively 
simple and easy before proceeding to what is more 
complex and difficult. Thus the first instruction in 
history should be unsystematic, by way of selected 
narratives or "stories," and the full and more systematic 
study — which besides involving more difficult processes 
of imagination makes a heavy demand on general think- 
ing — reserved for a later stage of development. The 
teacher should remember, too, that feeling is the life of 
imagination, and that in teaching a subject like geography 
the child's love of adventure and story may at first be 
best appealed to by connecting description with a nar- 
rative of some real or imaginary journey, its adventures 
dangers, etc.^ 

Finally, in all this teaching of the concrete by way of 
verbal description the imagination of the learner should 
be assisted by a judicious use of sense-presentations. 
The important aid rendered to the child's imagination by 
the sight of a globe, a model of a river-basin, and in a 
less degree by a good map, is recognised in modern 
methods of teaching geography. The advantage deriv- 
able from these appeals to the eye is due to the circum- 
stance that the products of imagination never, even at 
their best, attain to the completeness and distinctness, 

^ In Sir Joshua Fitch's valuable chapters on the teachings of geo- 
graphy and history {Lectures on Teaching, chaps, xii. and xiii.) the 
reader may see these points illustrated. Cf. I. Taylor, Home Educa- 
tion, p. 255 et seq. 



HOW SEEING AIDS THE IMAGINATION. 299 

the steadiness and the representative sufficiency, which 
characterise a sense-percept. Seeing an object itself is 
worth a hundred descriptions of it, both for the for- 
mation of a clear idea, and for the understanding, of the 
thing. When an object is presented to his senses a child's 
mind cannot go far wrong, and he is certain to gain some 
accurate knowledge of it if only he attends and examines. 
When, on the other hand, it is merely described and has 
to be imaginatively constructed, a child is thrown much 
more on his own resources, and is exposed to all the mis- 
leading forces of language. 

It is to be remembered, further, that verbal description 
necessarily proceeds by presenting the parts of an object 
or a scene one after the other, whereas the imagination 
requires to bring these together in a single picture. The 
model or map aids the learner's mind by presenting the 
parts simultaneously side by side just as a keen-sighted 
bird might see them. 

A similar aid is rendered to the historical imagination 
by the sight of coins, old buildings and the like, all of 
which make direct appeal to sense-observation. Much 
more use might be made of such relics of the past in 
the teaching of history and of literature, especially 
where, as in London, these legacies are so rich and so 
readily inspected. 

Lastly, it is to be remarked that a good picture, though 
of course inferior to the object itself in certain respects, 
since it gives only two dimensions of space, and can re- 
present only one side or aspect of the object, serves as a 
most valuable sensuous basis for clear and vivid imagina- 
tive activity. It is able to present the appearance of a 
particular moment, e.g., of a battle, with great clearness 



300 PEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

by reducing the scale and so bringing the several parts 
conveniently together for the eye, and is really more 
helpful to a clear apprehension of the whole than would 
be the actual witnessing of the scene. 

Yet while pictures have thus a real use in education, 
they have too their characteristic dangers. To begin 
w^th, a picture is an abstract, and in a sense a falsifying 
representation of a material thing. How hard it is for 
children to catch the true representative meaning of a 
picture is seen in the errors they commonly make at lirst 
as to the real size, shape, and distance of the pictorial 
objects. Not only so, a picture when it represents life 
and action falsifies by excluding movement, and a child 
is apt to be puzzled at seeing the huntsmen, for example, 
mounted on their galloping horses, yet remaining fixed 
on one spot. While pictures are thus apt to be a puzzle 
in the early years before they are understood, they are 
apt to mislead older children, especially when the things 
represented are unfamiliar ; all of which shows that care 
is needed in selecting pictures as illustrations, and that 
merely showing a picture to a child without explana- 
tion is but a very poor substitute for showing the real 
object itself.^ 

Cultivation of Invention. As we have seen, a 
child uses his imagination not only when he apprehends 
and assimilates another's instruction, but when he him- 
self discovers knowledge. And educators since Rousseau's 
time have begun to recognise the desirability of now and 

1 On the na'if mental attitude of a little child towards his pictures,, 
see my Studies of Childhood, p. 309 ff. The educational use and abuse 
of pictures are well illustrated by Mr. H. Courthope Bowen in a lecture, 
" On the Use of Pictures in Teaching," published in the Journal of 
Education, October, 1895. 



EXEECISING CHILDEEN IN DISCOVERY. 301 

again carrying out the " self-denying ordinance " of allow- 
ing children to find things out for themselves. In the 
teaching of natural history, of geography, of history, of 
science, opportunities occur for encouraging children to 
develop unaided the knowledge already acquired to new 
and unsuspected results. Here we have to do with a 
process of thought, i.e., of reasoning from the known to the 
unknown. Yet this process of reasoning is rendered possible 
by, and may be said to grow out of, imaginative activity. 
Thus the child that is able to reason where the brown 
peat-tinted water comes from, or what would happen if 
England were to lose all her coal-fields, is a child who 
can readily imagine or picture out the particular 
surroundings, antecedents, and consequents of facts 
and suppositions. And education can render no greater 
service to a child than to develop this power of ready 
imaginative invention. 

Here, however, great judgment is needed. It is no 
doubt true that much mediocre teaching of to-day (like 
much mediocre art) sins by leaving too little to the imagi- 
nation ; children are only bored by being told what 
they are perfectly well able to find out for themselves. 
The new questioning method of teaching which is be- 
coming firmly established in secondary as in primary 
education (in girls' schools at least, where trained teachers 
are obtainable) is of the very highest educative import- 
ance. Yet errors are made in this mode of teaching also. 
It is very easy for an inexperienced teacher to expect too 
much from a child; and some of the questions " shot oft' " 
in this questioning method miss their mark by calling 
forth no definite line of responsive imaginative 
activity. You must know how much latent know- 



302 PEODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

ledge is in a child's mind, and, further, the precise 
attitude and directions of activity of this mind at 
the moment (as determined by the immediately preceding- 
instruction), if you are with unerring tact to put the ap- 
posite and fruitful question, the question which fully starts 
the activity, that is already on tip-toe, so to speak. 

Cultivation of other Directions of Imaginative 
Activity. A word or two must suffice on the relation 
of the educator to the other forms of imaginative activity 
distinguished above. The cultivation of the imagination 
in the apprehension of facts of the inner world is beset 
with special difficulties. It is much easier for a child to 
picture a sensible object than to represent another's state 
of feeling or process of reflection. Not only so, a child's 
experiences, his ideas, feelings and desires, differ pro- 
foundly from those of older people, so that it is hard for 
him to enter imaginatively into thcvse. Great care must 
be taken to select simple experiences such as can easily 
be imagined by help of analogies to the child's own ex- 
periences. For the rest, the same general principles 
which regulate the exercise of the imagination in the 
process of acquiring knowledge of external objects 
apply to its exercise in the other directions of its activity. 
Thus in describing facts of the inner world, such as the feel- 
ings, ideas, and aims of a historical character, care should 
be taken to present the facts in simple, easily appre- 
hended language, to go back upon simple experiences of 
child-life so as to secure the requisite materials, and to 
point out all discoverable analogies between the situa- 
tion and state of mind described, and those which arise 
within the narrower circle of childish experience. Here, 
too, it is of importance to proceed methodically, to begin. 



TRAINING IN IMAGINATIVE INSIGHT. 303 

say, an account of King Alfred's adventure at Athelney 
with a general account of the circumstances and the 
situation of a fugitive sovereign in disguise, and then to 
develop a more exact imaginative apprehension by a 
skilful selection of the detailed facts. Opportunities 
should be seized here, too, for encouraging a more spon- 
taneous discovery of the facts : as by asking how a king 
would be likely to feel and behave when driven to 
assume the guise of a labourer, and perform the menial 
work of cooking. 

It is much the same in educating the practical imagi- 
nation. A child when invited to carry out any process 
of manual construction should be led to see the re- 
semblance between the new task and old ones, to note 
what is familiar both in the general plan of the work 
and in its constituent parts, and at the same time to ob- 
serve carefully in what respects the process differs from 
those previously carried out. Further, he should be 
trained to make use of his first inaccurate tentatives to 
produce the desired result, so as to correct his errors, and 
thus gradually to approximate to the right combination 
of ideas. The simple exercise of forming a new letter 
illustrates all these conditions. Ample room must, more- 
over, be provided for a freer construction, partly by the 
selection of toys — such as a box of bricks, or what Jean 
Paul Richter held to be the best of toys, a heap of sand — 
which offer an indefinite scope for constructive invention, 
partly by introducing into the methodical work of the 
kindergarten or school opportunities for inventing original 
designs.^ 

1 The cultivation of mechanical contrivance in children is well 
illustrated by Miss Edgeworth, Practical Education, i., p. 33 ff. 



304 PRODUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

The cultivation of the aesthetic imagination is in the 
main similar to that of the intellectual : the chief differ- 
ence being the cultivation of a finer feeling for what is 
sesthetically fit, harmonious, and contributory to a total 
impression of beauty. This will be dealt v/ith later on. 

EEFERENCES FOR READING. 

For a fuller psychological account of the process of Imagination the 
following may be consulted : Sully, The Human Mind, chap. x. ; G. 
F. Stout, Analytic Psychology, vol. ii., chap. xi. , sections 10 to 12. 

The characteristics of children's Imagination are dealt with by 
Sully, Studies of Childhood, chap. ii. ; by B. Perez, First Three Years 
of Childhood, chap, ix., and U Enfant de trois d sept ans, chaps, iii. 
and iv. ; by G. Compayre, The Intellectual and Moral Evolution of the 
Child, chap. vii. The reader of German may further consult Pnsterer, 
Pcedagogische Psychologic, sect. 14, and the article " Phantasie " in 
K. A. Schmid's Pddagog. Handbuch. The differences of imaginative 
power among children are treated of by F. Queyrat, L' Imagination et 
ses varietes chez V enfant. 

The educational importance and the culture of the Imagination are 
dealt with very fully by Isaac Taylor, Home Education, chaps, ix. and 
X. (" Culture of the Conceptive Faculty "). Cf. Miss Edgeworth, Prac- 
tical Education, chaps, xxi. and xxii. ; Rosenkranz, Peed, as Systeyn, 
p. 42 ff., and Lloyd Morgan, Psychology for Teachers, chap. ix. 
("Literature"). In French literature one may recommend Mdme. 
fecker, L"" Education, livre iii., chap, v., and livre vi., chaps, viii. 
and ix., and more recent manuals, e.g., that of Compayre, Cours de 
Pedagogic, lepon xi., and of E. Rayot, Ler,ons de Psychologic, onzieme 
leQon. The reader of German may profitably consult Beneke, op. cit., 
sects. 23 and 24 ; Waitz, op. cit., sect. 10 {Vom Spiele). 



CHAPTER XII. 

thought- activity : (a) conception. 
nature op thought. 

Knowledge of the Particular and of the General. 
We have hitherto examined the processes by which the 
mind apprehends particular objects and events. In per- 
ceiving and imagining we have to do with individual 
things, as the}^ can be known by way of the senses. But 
we can have another kind of knowledge about things, 
we can think about them, and this means that we can 
apprehend their constituent qualities, and by comparing 
them one with another in respect of these qualities reach 
general %deas of them. For instance, I can not only 
perceive this particular river, the Thames, which flows at 
my feet, but I can think about the essential properties 
of a river, and so about rivers in general. The latter 
gives rise to the knowledge of the General and Abstract, 
as distinguished from that of the Particular and Concrete. 

Thinking, in the sense just defined, is closely related 
to Understanding, and indeed the two words are often 
used to mark off the same higher region of intellectual 
activity. When we view an object as a concrete whole 
we merely apprehend it : w^hen, however, we specially 
note certain of its characters, recognising these as the 
common characters of a class of objects, we comprehend 
it. Thus a child merely apprehends a wild flower when 
21 



306 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY 1 (a) CONCEPTION. 

he perceives it as this particular object growing at this 
particular spot : when, however, he notes certain charac- 
teristics of it like those seen in other flowers, and names 
it a dandelion or what not, he has comprehension of 
w^hat he sees. 

While, however, we thus broadly mark off this higher 
level of general knowledge from the lower level of par- 
ticular knowledge, we must not suppose that they are 
absolutely distinct one from the other. We have already 
seen the beginnings of thought-activity in the process of 
sense-perception itself. To see and discern an object is 
to make prominent in consciousness its more charac- 
teristic and important features, qualities, and relations 
(see above, p. 197). What we call general knowledge is 
thus only a further development of particular know- 
ledge at its best and clearest. 

At the same time, this process of development is one 
which requires for its realisation very special conditions. 
For one thing, as has been pointed out, such explicit 
thought-activity presupposes a certain development of 
the highest brain-centres (compare above, pp. 40, 41). Not 
only so, all thinking, of the more explicit and exact sort 
which we are now considering, involves a very special 
and disciplined form of voluntary attention, which, 
again, implies the influences of human culture, as we see 
these at w^ork in a civilised community. 

Elements of Thought- Activity : (a) Analysis : 
Abstraction. Thought-activity consists essentially in a 
new and more difficult exercise of voluntary attention 
in relation to percepts and memory-images. To think 
is to carry out a very special kind of mental eflbrt, that 
is, concentration of attention. 



/ 



PAETICULAR AND GENERAL KNOWLEDGE. 307 

The simplest form of this thought-activity is seen in 
that analysis of our percepts by which we separately 
attend to this, that, and the other quality or relation of an 
object. A child begins to think when he singles out 
for special consideration, say the colour of a rose, the 
length of the neck or of the legs of a giraffe. Such an 
analytical selection of a particular feature throws, as we 
have seen, the other features into the background of con- 
sciousness. In attending to the colour of a rose a child 
has only a vague " marginal " impression of the form and 
number of its petals, the thorns on its stem, etc. Hence 
we may say that the analytical selection of particular 
qualities and relations of things is always a process of 
abstraction, i.e., a mental rejection of, or turning away 
from, what is not material at the moment.^ 

Now, as we saw above, a child's natural way of look- 
ing at and recognising things is by regarding them as 
concrete wholes. In perceiving and recognising an object, 
say an orange or a rose, he does not selectively attend to 
any one of its qualities, even the highly interesting 
one of colour. Strictly speaking, he apprehends a 
thing merely, and cannot as yet resolve this thing into 
a cluster of qualities. To fix the attention on any 
quality or relation as such, and in isolation from the other 
connected qualities, is the result of a special effort of 
thought. When we talk about abstraction and its 
diiFiculties we are thinking of this effort, of the labour 
of substituting for the unanalysed view of the whole 
the view of its constituent qualities and relations. 

^ Etymologically abstract (Latin, ah and tralio) means to draw off, 
i.e., the attention from certain aspects of an object so as to concentrate 
it upon another. 



308 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (a) CONCEPTION. 

(6) Synthesis : Comparison. Along with this work 
of resolving concrete wholes into constituent qualities 
and relations thought-activity proceeds by synthesis, that 
is to say, the combination or integration of thought- 
elements into wholes. We saw that this process of 
synthesis enters into the more explicit form of perception 
as a clear grasp of a peculiar group of qualities con- 
stituting "this object".^ We have now to examine more 
generally this form of thought- activity. 

The essential process in Synthesis is Comparison. By 
this is meant the successive direction of attention to each 
of two {or more) presentations or ideas in order to see 
hoiv they are related. In this way, for example, I com- 
pare two pictures on the wall to see whether they are on 
the same horizontal line or two colours to see which of 
the two is the darker shade. 

All clear apprehension of relations implies comparison. 
Thus the spatial relations of two objects, e.g., the situa- 
tion of one star to the right of, or above, another, are 
clearly discerned only by movements of attention from one 
to the other. When, however, we talk about compari- 
son as an integral part of thought-activity we are 
especially referring to the two great relations which lie 
at the basis of all the others, viz., Similarity and Dis- 
similarity or Difference. Comparison is illustrated in 
all explicit apprehension of difference and contrast. It 
is by comparison that a child grasps simple contrasts, 
such as white and black, tall and short, good and bad, 
and so forth. In like manner it is by comparison that 
he explicitly grasps a relation of similarity, as, for ex- 
ample, that between a picture and the original, or a 
1 See above, p. 197. 



ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 309 

fciger and a cat. To compare two things is to discover, 
by mentally focussing each in turn, whether and in 
what respects they resemble or differ from one another. 

The student must carefully distinguish between an implicit aware- 
ness of difference or likeness and comparison proper. A child " dis- 
criminates " the dog from the cat long before he can compare his 
percepts so as to see how they differ. In like manner he likens or 
" assimilates " one object to another, as in calling bright things gener- 
ally after the bright object, " key " or " star," before he can compare 
these so as to detect the real point (or points) of similarity. The first 
kind of activity is on the level of sub-human or animal intelligence, 
the second is distinctively hmnan activity. 

Relation of Comparison to Abstraction. These 
two fundamental forms of thought-activity are closely 
connected. No proper analysis of our percepts is possible 
till comparison begins. As every teacher knows, a child 
cannot at first single out in an object a particular quality 
or relation, say the straightness of a line. He must first 
observe a number of lines, and have the element of 
straightness brought home to his mind as a common 
feature in otherwise dissimilar objects. A child does not 
apprehend even so obvious a quality as the blackness of 
coal until he has seen a variety of black objects, and 
carried out a rudimentary process of comparison. 

We may say then that there is no complete process of 
abstraction, no clear marking off of the quality or re- 
lation of an object as such, without some amount of 
mental juxtaposition of this object with other objects 
resembling the first in possessing the same quality or 
relation. This is perhaps one of the most important 
principles which psychology supplies to the educator. 

While, however, a rudimentary process of comparison 
is thus present in all abstraction, it is no less true that 



310 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (A) CONCEPTION. 

all the higher and more exact comparison of things is 
aided by abstraction. Thus, for example, if a child is 
asked to compare two lines as to their straightness, it is 
evident that he can only carry out the comparison by 
following the lead of the word " straightness/' specially 
fixing his thought on this particular aspect. The later 
and more exact comparison is thus greatly aided by the 
results of previous abstraction (e.g., that involved in 
acquiring the notion " straight "). 

We may then describe the movement of thought as 
follows : a child begins by a vague general comparison 
of things, by help of which he discerns their several 
points of likeness, and so analyses them into constituent 
qualities ; after this analysis has been carried to a cer- 
tain point its results enable him to compare objects more 
narrowly and precisely, that is to say, by fixing his 
attention at the outset on some common aspect, such as 
shade of colour or squareness of angle. 

Stages of Thinking. It is customary in dealing with 
the thinking processes to distinguish successive stages. 
(a) First of all, it is said, thinking requires as its element 
a " general idea," such as is set forth by the name " man ". 
All general ideas when rendered clear and accurate, as 
logic requires them to be, are known as " concepts".^ Such 
are the scientific ideas embodied in the terms " material 
body " and " weight ". The process by which a concept 
is formed is called Conception. (h) When the mind 
possesses concepts it can carry out a complete act of 

^ As we shall see presently, notions or concepts may be either of 
what is constant and universal in a number of presentations of the 
same object, or what is common to the presentations of a number of 
different objects. 



STAGES OF THINKING. 311 

thought by combining two concepts in the form of a 
"proposition," as when we say "material bodies have 
weight". This is termed an act of Judgment. (c) 
Lastly, after judgments have been formed the mind 
carries out a more complex process of thought by in- 
ferring from the truth of certain judgments to that of 
other judgments, as when from the propositions "material 
substances have weight," " gases are material substances," 
we proceed to the new proposition " gases have weight ". 
This process is described as Reasoning, or drawing an in- 
ference or conclusion. 

The student must bear in mind that these distinctions 
are drawn by the Logician, rather than by the Psychologist, 
as formal distinctions recognisable in matured thought. 
They do not properly stand for successive stages in the 
growth of thought. A child does not form concepts 
before he begins to judge, and judgments before he begins 
to reason. With this warning we may adopt the distinc- 
tions as convenient for purposes of exposition. 

THE GENEEAL IDEA AND CONCEPT. 

Definition of General Idea. The general idea 
embodied in a name, such as " man," " triangle," lies at 
the basis of all the higher and scientific kind of think- 
ing. We only think comprehensively and exactly by 
help of clear general ideas or concepts. In other words, 
the higher and more perfect kind of thinking is con- 
ceptual thinking (i.e., thinking by means of concepts). 
Hence we have to bep;in our examination of the thinkinof 
processes by an inquiry into the structure and mode of 
formation of the general idea. 

A general idea is best marked off as an idea used with 



312 thought-activity: (a) conception. 

a general import or signification. Thus a child has a 
general idea of "house" or ''father" when he know- 
ingly uses the name as one of general scope, as being 
applicable to any and every object having certain recog- 
nisable features or qualities, or holding certain relations ; 
or, to use the language of logic, we may say that a 
general idea represents the common features of a class of 
objects as distinguished from that more special group of 
features which constitutes an individual object.^ As we 
may infer from these examples, a general idea is closely 
connected with the possession and use of names or other 
general signs. If we had no general signs such as 
names (or the gesture signs used by deaf mutes) we 
could have no precise and stable general ideas. General 
or conceptual thinking thus depends on an intelligent 
apprehension and use of language. 

The General Idea and the Image : Generic Images. 
The general idea is clearly related to the memory-image. 
When I think about houses in general my idea resembles 
the memory-image of a particular house. In truth, it is 
evident that our general ideas are formed out of memory- 
images. We have now to trace the process of develop- 
ment by which they are formed. 

The first important step in the direction of general 
ideas is the formation of what is called the generic 
image. A generic image is a pictorial mental image of 
a composite character formed by a succession of strik- 

i^The student must be careful to distinguish the logical meaning of 
"class " from that of the same word when applied to a definite num- 
ber of objects, as when we speak of a class of children in a school. 
The scientific or logical name " class " knows nothing of number. lli 
includes every object of a certain kind. 



THE GENEEAL IDEA. 313 

ingly similar presentations and acts of recognition. Thus 
after seeing the mother or the nurse, again and again 
under different circumstances, in different lights, and what 
is more important, in different clothes, a child forms a com- 
posite image of the person. In this composite image the 
constant, regularly recurring features are brought into 
prominence by the process of assimilation, which at once 
seizes, so to speak, on any elements in new presentations 
which cause them to resemble old presentations (compare 
above, p. 172). And, further, these common features are 
marked off by the use of the same name {e.g., " Mamma," 
" Nana "). This becomes definitely associated with the 
composite image so that when the mother says " Nana " 
the child has a pictorial representation of the nurse's 
general appearance. Such a representation may be 
called the composite generic iraage of an individual. 

What is usually spoken of as a " generic image " is 
formed out of presentations of a number of similar 
objects. For example, a child sees at different times 
this, that, and the other dog. The features in each new 
presentation (answering to the general appearance of a 
dog) are here, too, specially attended to in the process 
of assimilation. Here, too, one and the same verbal sign, 
a general as distinguished from a singular or proper 
name, is used in recognising each new presentation in 
this series {e.g., " Bow-wow "). In this way there comes 
to be definitely associated with this verbal sign a generic 
or typical image of the common form of the dog. Thus 
when the mother or nurse says " Bow-wow " this generic 
image would be called up in the child's mind. 

Such generic images do not, however, in themselves 
amount to true general ideas. A child understands and 



314 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (a) CONCEPTION. 

even uses general verbal signs, such as "man," "dog," 
before he has a clear awareness of the generality of the 
sign. This process of generalisation, as it is called, that 
is to say, the clear recognition of a certain group of 
features as common to many things, comes later as the 
result of thought-activity proper. 

Conception Proper or Generalisation. Conception 
proper begins with reflective comparison and analysis 
carried out upon generic images. Thus a child begins to 
understand the sign " dog " in its general character when 
he goes back in reflection on his past observations, re- 
calling the diflerences between this and that presentation, 
and carefully separating out by analysis the points of 
likeness from those of difference. 

By these processes he at once comes to have a clearer 
idea of an individual as such, and of a class of things. 
A baby using " da-da" as a recognition sign for all bearded 
men has no clear awareness either of an individual 
object or of a generality or class of persons. His state of 
intellicrence seems to be on the level of a cat which does 
not distinguish between the human form in general and 
individual embodiments of it. His experience presents 
to him again and again certain similar features sur- 
rounded by dissimilar ones. Thus his own father may 
appear with his beard shorn oft*, in which case a striking 
change, that is, difference, presents itself in a recurring 
and familiar kind of presentation. It is only slowly and 
by much reflection that a child comes to know that it is 
one and the same object which presented itself with and 
without the beard. Closer attention to what we call the 
signs of sameness, the real abiding characteristics of the 
individual, a dawning apprehension of the fact that in- 



THE PROCESS OF CONCEPTION. 315 

dividual things continue to exist, and can always be 
found in the same place (save where they move or are 
moved), lead gradually to the formation of an idea of the 
same individual, persisting in spite of certain changes. 
This is what logicians call the concept of the individual. 
An intelligent dog, devoted to his master, probably has 
the rudiment of such a concept in his idea of this 
person. 

Concurrently with this process, and in close connection 
with it, the child notes by comparison and analysis the 
generic as distinguished from the individual characteris- 
tics, such as the distinctive physiognomy, dress, pitch of 
voice, etc., of the class which we should call " adult 
human male ". When this process is complete he is said 
to generalise, that is, to apprehend certain elements in 
things ,as common to many, and as forming the basis of 
a class. In other words, he has attained to the concept 
of a class as distinguished from the concept of an indi- 
vidual. 

The Function and Value of Names in Conception. 
As we have seen, a general idea is an idea fixed and em- 
bodied in some name or other general sign. How far a 
child's mind can travel along the path of generalisation 
without any use of general signs is a disputed point. It 
is probable, however, that all clear and precise thinking 
depends on the use of them. 

Names are, as remarked above, a valuable aid to mem- 
ory. Memory-images are called up to a large extent 
by means of language.^ But names are not merely use- 
ful as reminders ; nor does their chief use lie (as is 
sometimes said) in their economising the labour of 
^ See above, p. 257. 



816 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (a) CONCEPTION. 

memory. Their real function is found in connection 
with the processes of thought. 

This function of names in thinking is definitely to fix 
the products of our thought-activity. Thus the terms 
" red," " crooked," and so forth definitely mark ofiT 
and register for further use the knowledge of particular 
qualities discovered by analysis. In other words, names 
are a device by which we can artificially isolate and 
keep apart the results of our analytical work. Even 
" proper names " subserve a similar purpose. A child 
in learning to name his nurse, " Nana," is giving de- 
finiteness and fixity to his mental representation of the 
group of permanent and distinguishing characteristics 
which constitutes this individual so far as she is known 
to him. 

This use of names already begins to appear in children's 
first imperfect employment of them. There are two 
ways in which a child may come to the use of language, 
(a) He may hear a name employed by others, and, by 
noting the recurring similarities in the objects to which 
this name is successively applied, may gradually come to 
understand its meaning. Here the verbal sign which 
is to be associated with, and so to recall, the general 
idea is directly presented along with the objects, 
and by recurring only with such objects as have cer- 
tain similar features it comes to mark off the results of 
the child's assimilative activity. Thus in learning such 
a familiar name as " milk " the application of one and 
the same name to a series of partially dissimilar objects 
helps materially to further assimilation and the forma- 
tion of a generic image. When later on he comes to the 
use of speech he learns by help of the imitative impulse 



HOW NAMES HELP THOUGHT. 317 

to reproduce the name when he sees another similar 
object, or mentally represents one. There is probably a 
rudiment of true thought- activity, of comparison and 
analysis, in this early mastery of others' words. Yet we 
are justified in saying that it does not imply a clear 
grasp of generalities. At the same time, the learning of 
the name does materially further that process of assimi- 
lation on which the development of generic images 
depends. 

(b) A child does not, however, merely learn the use of 
words from others ; he spontaneously invents verbal 
signs, and extends the use of those supplied him by 
others. Thus children in the second and third year have 
been observed again and again to invent a common sign 
for eating and eatable things. Again, children a little 
older, after they have learnt our names, are wont to apply 
them in a new and original manner, as when the names 
" key" and " star" were extended to all bright objects.^ 
Here, it is evident, assimilation precedes the naming : the 
child recognises the familiar feature of brightness in 
the new object, and greets its reappearance, so to speak, 
with the recognition-sign. Yet in this case, too, the 
impulse to name objects so far as they can be assimi- 
lated greatly helps to fix in the child's mind a definite 
representation of the particular feature or features con- 
cerned. Here also the use of common names serves to 
hold together in a compact and well-defined form the 
successive results of assimilation. 

Formation of More Abstract Notions. The forma- 
tion of the general ideas considered so far, for instance, 

^ For a full account of children's invention and original application 
of names, see my Studies of Childhood, pp. 145 f., and 162 f. 



318 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (a) CONCEPTION. 

" cat/' ''' bright," involves, as we have seen, but little 
thought-activity. The general idea may be said to form 
itself, so to speak, by help of comparatively simple and 
mechanical processes of assimilation, aided by the differ- 
entiating and defining or limit-setting use of a name. 
Tliis comparatively passive process may be carried out 
in all cases where similarity in its extent and its ini- 
pressiveness preponderates over dissimilarity. To ex- 
tend a name first applied to a star to a candle or gas 
flame is simply to use it as a recognition-sign of all 
that was prominent and interesting in the presentation 
of the star, viz., its brightness. It is much the same 
when the sign *' bow-wow " is applied to new specimens 
of the class " dog " ; though here some interesting dif- 
ferences, such as those of size and colour, accompany and 
may disguise for a moment the common features. 

It is otherwise when a child is called on to carry the 
process of abstraction to a further stage, and separate 
out points of similarity running through a larger variety 
of objects, and much more hidden by surrounding differ- 
ences. Thus in order to find out what is common in 
the form and actions of dogs, horses, mice and so forth, 
so as to reach an idea of animal, the child needs to 
think in the complete sense, to recall and compare many 
presentations, and by a strenuous effort of concentration 
to fix his mind on the common features. Such an idea 
as that of " animal," by representing subtle and not easily 
recognised points of similarity running through a wide 
rano-e of ver}^ unlike objects, may be called a general 
idea of a highlj^ abstract character. It shows in a 
specially clear form the concept in its dififerentiation 
Irom the generic image. 



THE EFFOKT OF ABSTRACTION. 319 

A special effort of abstraction is involved, further, in 
the singling out for special consideration of single quali- 
ties in objects, as when a child begins to call his ball or 
his hoop round, and to use what logicians call " abstract 
names," e.g., roundness. The use of this more abstract 
language follows that of the more concrete. Children 
have but few adjectives in their first vocabularies, and 
these are probably used as the equivalent of concrete 
names ; and abstract names, such as " roundness," appear 
much later still. When they begin to be used we have 
evidence that the process of analysing complex percepts 
is carried to a still higher point, viz., to the distinguish- 
ing of single qualities, such as redness or heaviness, which 
may be possessed by objects quite dissimilar in other 
respects. It is by this finer, more detailed analysis of 
qualities that our conceptual knowledge becomes per- 
fectly definite. Thus it is only when a child can 
separately think out the several qualities of water, e.g., 
that it yields to the hand, that its parts do not hold to- 
gether, etc., that his knowledge of this substance acquires 
a perfectly precise form. Such detailed analysis leads to 
a new explicit synthesis of qualities : the water now be- 
comes that which has this, that and the other quality, which 
together compose the characteristic group of qualities. 

Variety of Concepts. It follows from what has 
been said that the general ideas of material things and 
their qualities present a great variety. A material 
object, say a chair, can be referred to a great many dis- 
tinct classes, as, for instance, a piece of furniture, a 
wooden thing, and something made by manual labour. 
These concepts will, it is evident, differ in the degree of 
their abstraction. 



320 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (A) CONCEPTION. 

In addition to these general ideas of things, there are 
ideas of changes in objects, also of their m-ovements, in- 
cluding the actions of living things, such as are ex- 
pressed by the names " expanding," "melting," " rolling," 
"jumping," "flying". Here, again, we may distinguish 
between concepts of a higher and a lower level of abstrac- 
tion. Thus the idea of action in general is much more 
abstract than the idea of walking or talking. ^ 

With these concepts must be taken those of relations, 
such as those of space, e.g., to the right, to the left, 
within, without ; of time, e.g., before, after, a week ago ; 
cause and effect, such as making a noise or lighting a 
fire. These ideas of relations are among the last to attain 
to precision. This is shown in the late use by children 
of relational words and word-changes, viz., the tense- 
forms of verbs, adverbs of time and place, and preposi- 
tions. 

The Concept as a Synthesis of Attributes : Mathe- 
matical Ideas. So far, we have been viewing the 
concept as the result of analysing out qualities and 
relations from presented groups. But we cannot under- 
stand the way in which thought-activity proceeds with- 
out referring to another side of the process, viz., the 
synthetic combination of these qualities and relations. 

To begin with, then, we must remember that children 
learn the qualities of things gradually. They knov/ 
milk as the white-sweet thing before they know it as a 
fluid, and they know it as fluid long before they know 
anything of its chemical composition. As new observa- 

1 Mr. Stout has shown that in the languages of certain savage races 
we have a name for doing something by pressing with the foot, but no 
name for doing a thing in general. Analytic Psychology, ii,, p. 230 ff. 



VAEIETY OF CONCEPTS. 321 

tion and study discover new qualities in things, these 
are synthetically incorporated into the concept. Many 
of the new elements thus taken up into the concept are 
acqun-ed from the observations and reasonings of others. 
To a child a star is nothing but a twnikhng point of 
Hght far away . by-and-by he learns that this point of 
light is a big\ big planet. His later " concept " of a star 
is almost entirely built up of what others tell him about 
the object. 

There is another way, too, in Avhich a synthetic bring- 
ing together of attributes enters into the process of 
conception, viz., whenever we are called, on to form neiu 
general ideas by a constructive rearrangeinent of old 
ideas. This is illustrated in many school studies, such 
as history, in which the learner has to build up out 
of the results of his own previous observations and 
generalisations such ideas as " king," " invasion," "law," 
and so forth. 

This process of conceptual synthesis is carried out in 
close dependence on an act of constructive imagination. 
By this last the mind of the learner fashions an image, 
say, of King Alfred, or of the landing of the Komans in 
England, and it is the image so formed ' which supplies 
the basis of the concept. 

In a certain class of cases this preparatory work cf 
imagination is wanting : the concept transcends the 
limits of distinct visual representation. This process is 
illustrated in the formation of ideas of objects of great mag- 
nitude, also of large quantities, such as a city, the earth, 
the diameter of the earth, the number 1000. A child's 
iirst ideas of quantity, say, the length of a yard, or the 
number 5, are based on sense -perception. A yard looks 
22 



322 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (a) CONCEPTION. 

different from a foot, and five things look different from 
four things. Even in the case of small quantities, how- 
ever, a process of analysis and of synthesis takes place. 
Thus by superposition the yard is broken up into 3 feet, 
and reconstructed by adding foot to foot. So with num- 
bers : 5 is only understood when it is resolved into so many 
units, and reconstructed by adding unit to unit. In the 
case of the greater quantities, as a mile or the number 1000, 
the process of synthetic addition or summation lies at the 
basis of the whole idea. The number 1000 does not cor- 
respond to any distinct percept or image. It merely 
represents the result of an extended process of summing 
or counting performed on units or small groups of units, 
which are themselves sensible objects, and so picturable. 
This prolonged process is not of course fully carried out, 
but its extent is suggested or hinted at by the symbols 
employed ; e.g., 1000 is succinctly represented as the pro- 
duct of 10 X 10 X 10. In like manner the ideas of 
very small quantities, as yoVo^h part of an inch, repre- 
sent the result of a symbolically abbreviated process ; 
only that here the process is one of division, and so of 
analysis. 

This synthetic activity is illustrated in a somewhat 
difierent way in the formation of the notions of geometry. 
Our idea of a mathematical line or of a circle does not 
exactly answer to any observable concrete form. The 
lines we draw even with delicate instruments, not to 
speak of the lines drawn with chalk on the blackboard, 
have some thickness, and so are not perfect mathematical 
lines ; and they are far, too, from being perfectly straight in 
the mathematical sense. It follows that such geometric 
ideas are not reached merely by an analysis of percepts. 



MATHEMATICAL CONCEPTS. 323 

They imply an additional process, viz., idealisation. 
The student of geometry, in thinking about a perfectly 
straight line, has to frame an ideal conception which 
not only goes beyond what the mind can pictorially 
represent, but even beyond what is discoverable in 
any actual forms. Hence the peculiar difficulty which 
many a beginner in the science experiences in attaching 
any reality and meaning to these forms ; and hence, too, 
the peculiar and half-poetic charm of the science to 
many. 

The concepts used in physics, e.g., " perfect fluid," " perfectly rigid 
body," have something of the same ideal character. The distinction 
between concepts answering to pictures, and those which cannot be re- 
duced to images, is related to the distinction drawn by certain logicians 
between Symbolic and Intuitive knowledge. We have an intuitive 
knowledge of the number 3 and of the figure triangle because we can 
picture them, but have only a symbolic knowledge of the number 
1000 or of the figure chiliagon (one of a thousand sides) (see Jevons. 
Elementary Lessons in Logic, vii.). 

Moral Ideas : ^ Idea of Self. By a process of 
thought essentially similar to that whereby he learns to 
group external objects according to their resemblances, 
a child comes to a knowledge of the inner and moral 
world, that of his own mind and character. His idea of self 
begins with the perception of his own organism. This 
object, which, as we have seen, is known, like other 
objects, to the senses of Touch and Sight, is differentiated 
from all others by its immediate connection with the 

"I The expression " moral idea " is used as the most convenient one 
for marking off our knowledge of the " inner " region of mental 
phenomena from ideas of material or external objects. 



324 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (a) CONCEPTION. 

child's sensations and their varying feeling-tones on one 
side, and his active impulses on the other side. It is 
when his body is hurt by a fall, or caressed by the 
mother's hand, that he experiences pain and pleasure, 
and he soon comes to localise his sensations more or less 
definitely in some region of his body. This idea of self 
as material, as body, is probably the prominent one 
during the first three years of life, the period during 
which the child speaks of himself, as of any other object, 
by means of a proper name.^ 

This focussing of attention on the bodily self shows 
that the child is unable at first to reflect, i.e., turn his 
attention inwards on his mental states. He is glad or 
sorrowful, he wants to do something, but the feeling, the 
desire, does not become a definite object of reflective 
thought. His attention is absorbed in the presentations 
of sense, the changing appearances of the objects of the 
external world. To attend to the changes of the inner 
life implies an effort, a kind of abstraction or with- 
drawal of the mind from the more impressive changes of 
the outer world. This only occurs later on, when the 
will-power which sustains all the activity of thought is 
developed. The first steady directions of thought to 
this inner or spiritual self appear to be prompted by 
the growth of certain feelings, such as the love of others' 
approbation, pride in displaying one's prowess, shame, 
etc. 

The influence of others' words and behaviour is an 
important factor in the growth of this fuUer idea of self. 

^ For a fuller account of the idea of the bodily self, see Preyer, Th& 
Development of the Intellect, chap, xix., and my Studies of Childhood^ 
p. 109 ff. 



THE NOTION OF SELF. 325 

Our idea of our intellectual and moral self, of what we 
are worth, is largely a reflection of others' thought about 
us This has been called our " social self " or the " social 
me ".^ In the case of the child this influence of others* 
opinion in directing thought to the self, and moulding its 
form, is at work throughout the whole process of educa- 
tion. It is the constant appreciation of his thoughts, 
feelings and actions by the mother, as when she says, 
' That's silly," *' That is an ugly face," " This is nicely 
done," and so forth, which acts most powerfully on the 
early growth of self-consciousness. Yet the gradual sub- 
stitution for the proper name of " me," " I," ''my," etc., 
which is observable towards the end of the third year, 
appears to mark the date of the child's clearer reflection 
on his thoughts, feelings and efforts. 

While the first form of moral self-consciousness thus 
reflects others' opinions and feelings, a further process of 
reflective analysis is implied when a child's memory 
develops, and he begins to ''go back " to his past ex- 
periences, and to realise his continued existence as one 
and the same self. Here it is evident we have to do 
with a kind of generalising process, the discovery of 
common elements running through a series of very un- 
like experiences. The image of the ever-persistent body 
with its characteristic features, which always comes up 
in such comparisons of the present and the past, still 
contributes an important basis to the idea of self. But 
other elements, persistent modes of thinking about things, 
of feeling and of behaving, now begin to enrich the idea. 
The child is beginning to realise what philosophers call 
his personal identity. 

^ See W. James, Psychology, p. 179. 



326 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (A) CONCEPTION. 

This new idea of a permanent self is highly abstract 
and is difficult for a child. It is rendered still more 
difficult by the fact that the years bring great changes 
both in bodily appearance and in modes of thought, 
tastes, etc. A boy of eight seeing a photograph of 
himself at the age of three is apt to regard it as repre- 
senting another child, and the comparison of the later 
ideas and activities with those of the nursery makes the 
recognition of personal identity yet harder. Thus a 
good deal of hard thinking underlies the apprehension 
of the unity of the self in spite of all the change} 

The highest result of this reflection is the idea of a 
distinct individual or personality with a well-defined 
group of intellectual and moral capabilities. This idea, as 
we have seen, begins by the adoption of others' estimates. 
It only grows clear, however, by processes of self-examina- 
tion. Such self-inspection is essentially a generalising 
process, a comparison of many particular thoughts, feel- 
ings and actions, and a detection of the general quali- 
ties which these disclose. This independent realisation of 
one's own mind and character is often favoured by want 
of others' appreciation. A child may wake up to a 
consciousness of his powers, and to an estimate of his 
character, under the stinging stimulus of others' dis- 
paragement or indifference. 

Ideas of Others. In close connection with this 
development of self-knowledge there grows up the know- 
ledge of others as having feelings, thoughts, desires, as 
we have. There are many facts which point to the pres- 

^ Cf. my Studies of Childhood, p. 116. On the doubling of " self " 
by children, as in projecting an alter ego into the echo of one's voice, 
see the same volume, p. 496. 



MYSELF AND OTHER SELVES. 327 

ence in the child of an instinctive impulse to vivify or 
give life to things generally, and to endow with feeling 
any object which resembles himself, more particularly in 
appearing to be able to move itself. Thus children have 
been known to regard feathers, falling leaves and rail- 
way engines as alive and endowed with feeling.^ Later 
on, this impulse of personification is checked by the 
growth of knowledge and discriminative power. The 
child learns now to distinguish between inanimate and 
animate objects, and between the several grades of the 
latter. It is at this stage that he attains to a clearer 
awareness of the essential similarity between his own 
mind and those of other human beings. 

The knowledge of self and of others react one on the 
other. A child is only able to think of another person, 
e.g., his mother or brother, as a conscious being, by re- 
flecting on to the object something of his own inner ex- 
perience. On the other hand, the observation and under- 
standing of others materially aid in the development of 
a fuller and more accurate knowledge of self, and this in 
a double way : partly, as we have seen, because others' 
thought about us helps to determine our thought about 
ourselves ; and partly because by entering into others' 
ideas and feelings we enlarge our experience, and so 
gain a deeper knowledge of our capabilities. 

It is to be noted that in this thought about ourselves 
and others there is not only analysis and generalisation, 
but synthesis or constructive rearrangement of ideas. 
This applies to the understanding of others. When we 
are making a study of a stranger we form a preliminary 
idea of his mind and character by help of our previous 
^ See my Studies of Childhood, pp. 30 f. and 96 f. 



328 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (a) CONCEPTION. 

observations. A higher kind of synthetic activity is in- 
volved in the formation of ideal conceptions of ourselves 
and others. To idealise a person is to take the idea of 
what we regard as the most fundamental and valuable 
elements of his character, and to conceive of these as 
attaining to a fuller and more perfect realisation. In all 
moral aspiration the construction of the representation 
of a " higher " or " ideal " self forms an essential element. 

Kelation op Conception to Imagination. The above account of 
the process of conception enables us to see yet more clearly how the 
general idea or (as it becomes in its perfect form) the "^ concept " is re- 
lated to the mental image. Thought — that is to say, "conceptual 
thought " — is commonly opposed to imagination, and we have now to 
see how far this opposition holds good. 

That to imagine is not the same thing as to think about generalities 
is at once evident. To imagine is to represent a concrete object in 
something approaching to its fulness of detail : to think is to inhibit 
this tendency to " picture out " the objects represented, to restrict 
attention to certain selected aspects of the objects. Hence a strong 
vivid imagination in a child is apt to hinder clear conceptual thought. 
This is illustrated in the suggestive action of words on an imaginative 
child. Such an one instantly begins to reduce the verbal symbols to 
images of certain individual examples. Talk about " tree," " house," 
a " sheet of water," to such a child and he will " picture out " more or 
less fully some familiar specimen.^ Hence the difficulty well known 
to observant teachers in presenting abstract subjects to children of quick 
and lively fancy. And in the case of the more difficult mathematical 
concepts just referred to it is evident that since conception transcends 
the limits of imagination the two processes are in a manner opposed. 

Yet here, too, to speak of an opposition merely is to do injustice to 
the real state of things. As we have seen, our general ideas are formed 

' This holds good, too, of imperfectly educated adults. The tendency 
is amusingly illustrated by Mr. Galton. Some one began narrating : 
" I am going to tell you about a boat ". A young lady of an imagina- 
tive turn being asked what the word " boat " called up, answered : " A 
rather large boat, pushing off from the shore, full of ladies and gentle- 
men " {Inquiries into Human Faculty, p. 110). 



CONCEPTION AND IMAGINATION. 329 

out of images. If a child could not pictorially represent a dog, a tree, or 
a river, he could not think of these objects under their general aspects. 
And while conception thus depends on the presence of memory-images, 
it depends also, as we have just seen, on the formation of new pictorial 
representations by the process of productive imagination. The clear- 
ness and fulness of the pictorial images is indeed one great condition 
of the attainment of clear and exact general ideas. It is only, for 
example, when a child can readily recall the whole look and feel of a 
piece of clay, or of one of the metals, that he can go on to think in an 
abstract way about its several qualities, so as to reach the general 
notion of " clay " or " metal ". As we shall see presently, the products 
of thought-activity, the concepts which our minds form and embody in 
words, require, in order to remain clear representations of what really 
exists, to be referred back to concrete examples ; and this keeping of 
the concept in living touch with real things is greatly aided by a ready 
imagination. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (A) CONCEPTION (continued). 
EARLY DEVELOPMENTS OF CONCEPTION. 

Beginnings of Abstraction and Comparison. It is 
often said that a child " abstracts " before he comes to 
the use of words. This, however, is doubtful. The fact 
that children in perceiving objects fasten their attention 
on certain salient and interesting marks shows, no doubt, 
that they carry out a process analogous to abstraction 
(compare above, p. 198). But animals appear to do the 
same thing, and yet we hardly attribute to them a power 
of abstraction.^ 

True abstraction, that is, the clear apprehension of a 
quality as such, comes only after some use in language. 
This is seen in the late use of adjectives, which will be 
spoken of presently. Such a clear mental grasp of a 
quality, even so simple and conspicuous a quality as big- 
ness, seems to be reached only after a certain measure of 
comparison. 

Thoughb-activity begins in normal cases to manifest 
itself in a very rudimentary form as comparison early in 
the second year. An infant of ten months that selects a 

1 Perez seems to me not to distinguish carefully enough the first 
scrappy perception from abstraction proper, i.e., a reflective analysis 
of presentations {The First Three Years of Childhood, p. 179 ff.). 



FIEST EUDIMENTS OF THOUGHT. 331 

piece of cake when placed in juxtaposition with a piece 
of bread does not necessarily carry out a comparison and 
an explicit apprehension of differences. But early in 
the second year clearer cases of comparison occur. Thus 
a child will look from his nurse's face to the reflection of 
the same in a glass. He will also about the same time 
show that he is beginning to understand pictorial repre- 
sentations of objects. 

Clearer evidence of comparison appears later when 
words are used. Thus a child, when recognising a plate 
as dirty, will say, " This is a dirty plate, not a clean 
plate " ; and this form of speech shows that he is be- 
ginning to grasp the relation of contrast.^ 

Soon after coming to the use of words, that is, in 
favourable cases, early in the second year, a child will 
further give evidence of carrying out very rough and 
imperfect processes of classing objects.^ This aspect of 
the development of children's intelligence must now be 
discussed more fully. 

First Rudiments of the General Idea. The early 
stage in the formation of general ideas is one of the 
most interesting phases of the child-mind, and is one, 
moi cover, which has received considerable attention from 
workers in the field of child-psychology. By a careful 
observation of children at the time when they begin to 
understand and use words, we may learn much as to the 
way in which this power spontaneously develops. More 

1 See my Studies of Childhood, pp. 174, 175. 

2 The beginning of generalisation before the use of words is discussed 
by Preyer, The Senses and the Intellect, chap, xvi., " Development of 
the child's intellect independently of language". It may be doubted, 
however, whether the processes he describes amount to true conception. 



332 thought-activity: (a) conception 

particularly, it is instructive to watch the way in which 
children in the second and following years invent names 
of their own, and spontaneously extend those which they 
learn from others to new and analogical cases. 

As already pointed out, the first use of language 
by the child does not imply that at this early stage he is 
forming clear general ideas, or ideas of classes : it simply 
points to the strong working of the assimilative or apper- 
ceptive impulse. This applies to the use in the second 
year of what may be called " appetite-signs," e.g., " mum," 
which was used by Mr. Darwin's boy at the age of one 
year for various edibles. Such signs certainly do not 
mean that a child has a clear general notion of a class of 
things (foods). It applies, too, to the extension of names, 
like " star " or " lamp," to bright things generally (com- 
pare above, p. 31 7). This assimilative extension of names 
is common to the child and the savage. Thus a Bakairi 
Indian when first shown a mirror displayed no surprise, 
but nodded and said quietly, " Water ". 

The first general ideas formed correspond, as might be 
expected, to narrow or " concrete " classes, having a 
number of striking points of resemblance. This may 
easily be seen by studying the vocabulary of a child of 
four. He uses the names milk, water, tea, etc., but has 
no name for something to drink in general. In like 
manner he uses the name "house," but not " building," 
" apple," but not " fruit/' " doll," " gee-gee," but not 
** toy ". Herein his language resembles that of savages. 

In saying that the general names first used by children 
are of concrete classes, it is not meant that they proceed 
regularly from lower classes (" species ") to higher classes 
("genera"). As we all know, a child will use the name 



FIRST ESSAYS IN CLASSING THINGS. 333 

" tree " long before he uses the names " oak," " ehn," and 
the rest. At first the assimilative function seems to push 
on in advance of the discriminative function. It is often 
said that the child is impressed more by similarity than 
by dissimilarity ; and, though the statement in this 
general form is somewhat inaccurate, it expresses the 
truth that the young mind will form a class of like things 
— when the likeness is patent and impressive — before it 
distinofuishes the several varieties or sub-classes included 
in this class. 

The first class-ideas are determined by special interest. 
Thus a child learns the use of " milk," and of " dolly," 
because he is specially interested in these things. Esthetic 
interest, too, plays a considerable part in the selection of 
the first general ideas, as is seen in the acquisition of 
such names as " flower " and " picture ". 

Little by little, however, the child does enter on a true 
process of generalisation. Thus the names for the several 
kinds of familiar food, such as njilk and pudding, soon 
begin to have a general import. A child notes that the 
things which he and others eat or drink disappear, wholly 
or in part; and he readily reaches the distinction between, 
say, one and the same pudding on the table to-day and 
yesterday, and a new pudding. When this awareness of 
individual distinction arises, he proceeds to frame general 
notions or class-ideas, in the full sense of the word. 
Thus " pudding," " puss," " mamma," " baby," and a host 
of words come to be used intelligently within the first 
three or four years as general signs. The instruction of 
the nursery greatly aids the child's thought-process here. 

Some of this early generalisation follows not our dis- 
tinctions as fixed in the common language, but lines of 



334 thought-activity: (a) conception. 

childish thouglit. This is seen in some of the extensions 
of names by children to analogous presentations, as when 
the crackling noise of the fire was called " barking," and 
the barking of a dog " coughing ". In these cases genuine 
movements of thought in the direction of class-ideas may 
transcend the generalisations fixed in our conventional 
speech. The same applies to original inventions such as 
*'dig" for a hole dug in the ground, "rainer" for a 
person who sends rain. 

Differentiation of Language-Signs. At first a 
child uses words neither as substantives, as verbs, nor as 
adjectives. His verbal signs, like his ideas, are " general " 
in the sense of being undifferentiated. Thus " doll " 
may mean, " Where is dolly ? " " Dolly has fallen," and so 
forth. Little by little the child distinguishes the functions 
of words, and comes to use the names of things and 
actions as such. A noteworthy event in this linguistic 
progress is the first use of adjectives. A child of two 
may pick up and use a few adjectives, such as " hot " and 
" nice," which answer to simple sensations of very great 
interest to him ; yet these are probably used as names, 
e.g., " nice thing". A more difficult achievement is seizing 
the meaning of a relative term such as " big ". The boy 
already referred to first emplo3^ed this word when he 
was about twenty-two months old. Seeing a rook flj^ing 
over his head, he called out, " Big bird ". It is worth 
noting that children frequently use what we call a sub- 
stantive for qualifying a thing, as in the common prac- 
tice of calling a small object ''baby" this or that (e.g., 
in applying the expression " baby ship" to a boat by the 
side of a large ship). 

Among the more abstract conceptions reached in the 



GROWTH OF child's LANGUAGE. 335 

Srst years of life, those of number and time deserve a 
passing notice. Professor Preyer says that his boy in 
his twenty-sixth month had not the remotest idea of 
number. Another boy, ah^eady referred to, when twenty- 
two months old, distinguished one object from d, plurality 
of objects, and this some time before he could distinguish 
two from three, and so on. He called any number of 
objects (except one) " two, three, four," according to the 
formula taught him by his mother. When three and a 
half years old, the same child still confused number with 
size. 

This answers to the fact that many savage races cannot count above 
five, i.e., beyond the point at which differences of number are plainly 
apparent to the eye. The lower animals seem to have only the most 
rudimentary perception of numbers. M. Perez {The First Three Years 
of Childhood, p. 185, etc.) tells us that this corresponds to an animal's 
distinction of number. A cat when only one kitten out of a number 
was left it was miserable ; but when two out of five were left it was 
contented. It thus distinguished between one and many. Sir John 
Lubbock lately remarked that if four eggs are in a nest, one may be 
taken without troubling the mother ; but if two are removed, she 
commonly deserts the nest.i 

In like manner, it is common for children to mark off 
all periods of the past under the head of " yesterday," 
and all periods of the future under the head of " to- 
morrow " or " by-and-by ". A considerable improvement 
of thought-activity is necessary before they can pass 
from this rough discrimination of one and many to the 
discernment of particular numbers, and from a mere dis- 
crimination between past and future to the discernment 

^ On the early development of concepts of number, see Perez, The 
First Three Years of Childhood, p. 185 ff., also an article by Professor 
Dewy in the American Psychological Review, 1896, p. 328 fT. 



836 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (A) CONCEPTION. 

of definite divisions of time, as yesterday, to-morrow, 
last week, next week.^ 

From about the twelfth year on we notice in the case 
of children undergoing instruction a marked progress in 
the use of " abstract language ". They begin to assimi- 
late and make use of the abstractions which enter into 
the language of their cultivated elders. Thus they talk 
of " heat," " strength," " shape," and even of such subtle 
abstractions as " the future," " belief," " fairness," and so 
forth. It is to be noted, however, that such abstract 
language remains for a considerable time highly pictorial 
in its import : the abstract thought is not yet clearly de- 
tached from a mental image. This has been ascertained 
by questioning young persons between the ages of thirteen 
and eighteen as to what thoughts or images such terms 
as " number," " coldness," " infinite," first bring into their 
minds. "Coldness" suggested to one child "a frosty 
ground, w4th here and there a stump," to another, " dress- 
ing myself in a big overcoat," '' abstraction " to one 
child " a man with head resting on hands, elbows resting 
on marble-topped table ".^ 

Varieties of Conceptual Development. Children 
as well as adults differ considerably in their ability to 
generalise and in the w^ealth and variety of their general 
ideas. Some minds are quicker than others in detecting 
similarity amid diversity, and in bringing to light the 
common aspects of things. These differences turn partly 
on inequalities in power of mental concentration ; for, as 

^ The student will find a much fuller account of children's early 
thought-activity in my Studies of Childhood, chaps, iii., iv. and v. 

2 Sara E, Wilke, The Place of the Story in Early Education (Boston, 
1892), p. 116 ff. Compare what was said above, p. 328 f. 



VARIATIONS OF EARLY THOUGHT. 337 

we have seen, to compare and analyse things involves a 
special effort of attention. They depend too, in part, on 
inequalities in the power of apprehending similarity. 
There is reason to believe that certain persons have a 
special interest in the similarities of things, and a special 
readiness in apprehending these, whereas others have a 
relatively greater interest in, and aptitude for, the 
differevces of things. 

To analyse and generalise is one and the same process 
whatever the particular nature of the subject-matter. 
Yet special directions of interest and observation pro- 
duce corresponding differences in the lines of conception 
followed out. Even a child of four may be seen to develop 
his general notions along special lines of interest, as when 
his mind becomes absorbed in animal-lore, machine-lore, 
and so forth. Special tastes and lines of observation 
and reflection will lead one boy to develop more readily 
natural history concepts, another, concepts of number. 

While, however, natural tastes thus serve to fix the 
lines of conceptual development, the height reached in 
generalisation is largely determined by the kind and 
amount of training undergone. • It is obvious, indeed, 
that a well-educated youth is distinguished from a badly 
educated one by the possession of a good stock of clear 
general notions and a readiness to note and mentally 
detach the common aspects of things. It is no less mani- 
fest that devotion to any particular branch of science, e.g.^ 
geometry, will develop a special facility in forming and 
making use of the concepts of this science. 

Measurement of Conception, As we pass to the higher and more 
complex intellectual processes, perfectly satisfactory modes of measure- 
ment seem to become more difficult. Simpler thought-processes, and 
23 



338 THOUGHT- ACTIVITY : (a) CONCEPTION. 

especially comparison, may be tested by the methods already referred 
to. Thus when pairs of lines are successively presented to the eyes of 
children, and they are asked to say which is the longer, the percentage 
of errors made may be taken as testing the power of comparison and 
grasp of the relation of difference in this particular domain of 
visual phenomena. It is more difficult to test the process of form- 
ing clear concepts. We must remember that the mere ability to 
repeat a definition of a name is no test of conception. A better 
test would be quickness in recognising examples of the class, or con- 
crete manifestations of the quality. Such exercises might be graded, 
passing from fairly easy cases, where the presence of the common 
quality or qualities is apparent, to difficult and extreme cases, where 
the presence of the common quality or qualities is veiled. In this 
way, for example, it would be possible to test the clearness of a boy's 
concept of a natural form, such as oak-tree, of a geometrical form, for 
example, triangle, and of a substantive, or other verbal class. This 
might be supplemented by the reverse process of asking children to 
write down as quickly as possible the higher class or " genus " under 
which they would place certain smaller classes or " species," such as 
" oak," " sugar," " gimlet," " the colour purple ". 



REGULATION OF CONCEPTION. 

Logical Definition of Concept. So far, we have 
dealt with the psychological side of conception, that is 
to say, with the process of generalisation and its develop- 
ments. We may now pass to the logical side of the sub- 
ject. This is a matter of so much importance to the 
teacher in training a child's mind in abstraction that a 
somewhat full reference is necessary. 

In its proper logical sense a " concept " is a clearly 
thought out general idea, so that all that is implied in it 
is explicitly apprehended and formally set forth in words. 
It signifies further that this mental representation of the 
individual is accurately adjusted to the commonly re- 
cognised meaning of the term among competent and 
educated people. In other words a concept is an ideal, 



THE LOGICAL CONTROL OF CONCEPTION. 339 

a perfected form of our actual ideas. In order to have a 
true " concept " of a metal, I must have a clearly analysed 
idea, so as to apprehend the several constituent pro- 
perties which compose or constitute a metal according to 
the proper and generally accepted definition. 

Logicians tell us that the accurate adjustment of an indi- 
vidual's general ideas to the conceptual standard includes 
two things. In the first place, as the result of his mental 
analysis, he must represent the precise group of qualities 
which are " essential," or, in other words, which are 
specifically marked off as the connotation of the term. 
Thus I think the concept " metal " with logical correct- 
ness when I distinctly represent those common and 
fundamental attributes, such as being an element, a 
good conductor of heat, and so forth, which scientific 
men agree should form the meaning or " connotation " of 
the word. In the second place, and as a consequence of 
this adjustment, the name must be applied to exactly 
those objects, no less and no more, to which it is strictly 
applicable. In other words, the name must be used with 
the right denotation, as well as with the right con- 
notation. Thus " metal " must be applied to liquid 
mercury as well as to the solid iron, and it must not be 
applied to things which are not, properly speaking 
metals, such as stones.^ 

Imperfection of Concepts : (a) Want of Distinct- 
ness. Now, the general ideas of children, and indeed of 
most adults, are far from having this logical perfection. 
To begin with, they are apt to be indistinct, wanting in 
a precise apprehension of the several qualities and rela- 

1 On the meaning of denotation and connotation (called also ex- 
tension and intension), see Jevons, Elementary Lessons in Logic, lesson v. 



340 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (A) CONCEPTION. 

tions implied. As we have seen, children's general ideas 
begin by being pictorial images ("generic images"), 
which, like the first form of the percept, are appre- 
hensions of wholes, in which the constituent parts, quali- 
ties, and relations are not distinctly separated out one 
from the other. In this way a child of four or six uses 
the names " dog," " house," " flower," and the rest. The 
idea serves in general for recognising members of the 
class when they present themselves : a child knows a 
dog, a flower, when he meets with one — in most cases at 
least. But he is unable to answer the question, " What 
is a dog ? " or " What is a flower ? " so as to give an in- 
telligible and precise account of the object. Thus he 
may be able to get as far as to say, " A flower is a pretty 
thing growing on a bush " : but he has no idea of the 
parts of a flower and of their arrangements as a botanist 
has.^ 

In the case of children a further and prolific source of 
indistinctness or vagueness is partial comprehension of 
the meaning of words as used by others. The fact that 
a child is daily hearing a highly developed language, in 
which the finer distinctions ancVthe more subtle generali- 
sations of the mature intelligence are embodied, leads to 
a good deal of vague apprehension of meanings. A child 
will often be puzzled to know what exactly is meant by 
such words as " upright," " righteous," " honourable," 
and so forth. Even some persons who habitually use 
these words might find it hard to explain their meaning. 

^ According to Leibnitz, a notion which enables us to recognise an 
object, and to keep it clear from other objects, may be called " clear," 
though it is not " distinct," in the sense explained in the text. See 
Jevons, Elementary Lessons in Logic, lesson vii. 



IMPERFECTIONS OF CHILDEEN'S IDEAS. 341 

This tendency to acquire vague, partial apprehensions is 
aided by the ambiguities of language, as when we call 
both a fruit, and a boy who behaves nicely, " good ". But 
I shall return to this presently. 

Even when the process of analysis described above 
has been carried out, and the idea has been developed 
into a conceptual form, it may heco'ine indistinct. This 
arises from the peculiar structure of the concept. As we 
have seen, this is a general idea, in which attention is 
kept focussed, so to say, on certain special features of 
the object represented by help of the name. Thus when 
a child distinctly thinks out what we mean by a " metarl," 
he concentrates attention on the fundamental qualities. 
But if he loses his mental hold on these, and if the word 
" metal " now calls up in his mind only an unanalysed 
image of a particular metal, say iron, his concept will have 
fallen back into its original indistinctness. The same of 
course applies to the concepts reached wholly by way of 
instruction, such as " watershed," " rectangle," *' transitive 
verb," and so forth. They begin to grow hazy as soon 
as the essential and determining qualities slip away from 
the mental grasp. 

Although the logician distinguishes the connotation 
and the denotation of a general name, that is to say, its 
meaning and its application, it is easy to see that they 
are closely connected. As has been conceded above, a 
child may be able up to a certain point to recognise an 
object and apply the corresponding name correctly with- 
out having a distinct apprehension of the several deter- 
mining qualities. Yet in difficult cases, where an object 
lies, so to say, on the margin of the class, only a distinct 
grasp of the qualities which make a thing a house, a 



342 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (A) CONCEPTION. 

flower, or what not, will suffice for identification. Thus 
a child who had no distinct idea of the essential qualities 
of a house would not be sure whether a barn was to be 
called one. We may say then that it is only analysis 
and the distinct unfolding or separating out of the con- 
stituent parts of a general idea which will enable us to 
apply it accurately in all cases. Distinctness of concep- 
tion may thus be tested by the form of question, " Is this 
a house ? " (or a rectangle, and so forth), as well as by the 
form, " What is a house ? " (or a rectangle, and so forth). 

(h) Want of Accuracy. From the mere indistinct- 
ness of a concept we have to distinguish its positive 
inaccuracy. The distinctness of a concept depends on 
our representing the several characteristic qualities : its 
accuracy depends on our taking up the right elements, 
i.e., the common and essential characters of the class as 
recognised by others, no more and no less. Thus a 
correct notion of " rectangle " should definitely include 
the presence of four right angles, and should not include 
equality of the four sides. 

It follows from what has been said about the relation 
of the meaning of a name to its application (connotation 
to denotation) that inaccuracy of -meaning leads to 
inaccuracy of application. Thus a child who thought 
that a metal is always and necessarily a solid body would 
err by not recognising mercury (quicksilver) as a metal. 

Inaccuracy of conception, like mere indistinctness, 
may arise either through an imperfect carrying out of 
the processes of comparison and analysis or through a sub- 
sequent process of decay or disintegration of the concept. 

To begin with, then, the first general ideas of all of us 
are apt to be more or less inexact because of the rougli 



INDISTINCTNESS AND INACCURACY OF IDEAS. 343 

character and limited range of our inspection of the 
objects. Owing to these causes our generalisation 
becomes inaccurate ; and this in one of two ways, by way 
of comprehending either too much in the meaning, or 
too little. It is a logical commonplace that when you 
add to the meaning of a term, you tend to restrict its 
application; and that when you subtract from its mean- 
ing you tend to widen its application. Consequently we 
may call concepts which comprehend too much in their 
meaning too narrow, as answering in their application to 
too few objects. Similarly, concepts which comprehend 
too little in their meaning may be called too wide, as 
answering in their application to too many objects. 

Narrowness of generalisation is very common, and 
grows out of insufficient range of observation. For 
example, a child who has only seen red roses is apt to 
regard what we call the accidental quality of redness as 
a part of the meaning of "rose" : and one whose acquaint- 
ance with metals covers only the more familiar examples, 
such as iron, would naturally comprehend hardness and 
solidity in his idea of the class, which would thus ex- 
clude quicksilver. We are all, ipdeed, apt thus to take 
up into our general notions the accidental associations of 
our individual experience. Thus to many Englishmen, 
even in these days of universal education, '' religious " 
means possessing one particular form of faith. 

Excessive width of application comes, not from an 
insufficient range and variety of observation, but from 
imperfect examination of what is before us. If our 
observation is superficial and hasty we shall detect 
and mark off only a part of the common traits or 
characteristics., viz., those which are especially prominent 



344 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (A) CONCEPTION. 

and impressive. The notions of children and of the 
uneducated are apt from this cause to be too wide. 
They pick up a part, but only a part, of the significance 
of the words they hear employed. For instance, they 
observe among different creatures called " fish " the 
conspicuous circumstance that they live in water ; and, 
knowing nothing of the differences of structure and 
habits of life between a fish and a mammal, they tend to 
make this circumstance the whole meaning of the word. 
Consequently they are ready to call a porpoise, a seal, or 
any other animal living in water, a " fish ". In a similar 
way a child will call a bat a " bird ". 

Our concepts tend still further to become inaccurate, 
just as they become indistinct, by the lapse of time and 
the gradual dropping out of some of their elements. 
Thus, for example, children, and indeed all of us, are apt 
to forget that a perfectly good or virtuous action is 
more than an action which is externally good, that 
it is an action which springs out of a good disposi- 
tion. Every successive loss of such elements involves 
a growing divergence between the name and the 
things denoted. The converse error, too, of allowing 
accidental accompaniments to insinuate themselves into, 
and blend with, the concept, is not uncommon. You 
might begin by defining " emperor " to a boy, but if after- 
wards you were to allow him to read only of Alexander, 
Napoleon, and other military emperors, he would pretty 
certainly import the idea of generalship and conquest 
into his concept.^ 

• Waitz instances the tendency of a boy, even after the definition 
of an angle has been given him, to fall back into an erroneous first 
conception that the length of the sides helps to determine its size. 
Allgem. Pcidago'jik, § 21. 



CLASSING AND DISTINGUISHING THINGS. 345 

It may be well to add that the two imperfections of 
concepts thus distinguished, indistinctness and inaccuracy, 
are closely related. When our ideas of things are hazy, 
and there is no clear grasp of the determining qualities, 
there is a peculiar danger of dropping essential elements 
altogether, and, further, of taking up extraneous and 
accidental ones. 

Conception and Discrimination. So far we have 
regarded the concept merely as a single separate product 
brought about by analysis and the selection of like or 
common features. But thinking is always a double 
process of differentiation and integration. We mark off 
or discriminate in the very process of generalising. In 
forming a clear concept of " animal," for example, we are 
not only connecting many unlike things on the ground 
of their resemblances (animal structure and functions), 
but have, in the margin of our consciousness at least, an 
idea of the difference between the animal and other 
things which lack these resemblances (plants and lifeless 
objects). When we think of the class European we are by 
implication marking Europeans off from non-Europeans 
(Asiatics, tvjc). To constitute a class by the 'presence of 
certain marks is virtually to distinguish it from other 
things wanting these marks. In all cases where there 
are well-marked contraries or opposites, e.g., heavy — light 
sweet — bitter, good — bad, and so on, this process of dis- 
crimination of class from class becomes more explicit. 
To bring an object under the class of light bodies is to 
set it in opposition to the class of heavy ones. 

It follows that in order to have clear concepts, and to 
think clearly about things, we must become explicitly aware 
of their differences. The difference between " man " and 



346 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (a) CONCEPTION. 

"brute," which is an element of our "marginal con- 
sciousness " when we are thinking about " man," requires 
to be made "focal" if we would know clearly what man 
is and is not. This full conscious comparison and dis- 
crimination becomes especially important in the case of 
all concepts which from their similarity are apt to be 
confused, especially by children ; such as " strong " and 
" healthy," " sensible " and " clever "} 

Systems of Concepts: Classification. The differ- 
ences among concepts are fully dealt with by logic. 
One of the most important of these is that between the 
General and the Singular concept or name, as illustrated 
in "man" and "this man". This distinction has been 
touched upon above. Another is the distinction between 
positive and negative names; such as ''elastic" and 
" inelastic ". Here the fundamental process of thought- 
differentiation is distinctly recognised and formulated. 
These logical distinctions among concepts deserve the 
careful study of the teacher. 

Logic attempts further an orderly systematic review 
of the agreements and the differences among things in 
what is known as logical classification.^ To classify 
things is to view them in such a way that the several 
degrees of resemblance and difference between them may 
be clearly exhibited. This may take place by proceeding 

1 To use the language of Leibnitz, sucli imperfectly differentiated 
' concepts would be " obscure " or wanting in " clearness ". See Jevons, 

Elementary Lessons in Logic, lesson vii. 

2 The student should carefully distinguish this meaning of " classify " 
from the looser meaning of the term, as when we say that we " class " 
or "classify " an object by taking it up into a concept. Classification, 
in its proper and complete sense, means methodical arrangement of 
classes. 



ORDERLY CLASSIFICATION. 347 

through a series of generalisations from less compre- 
hensive to more comprehensive classes. Thus, supposing 
we know the classes " plough," " spade," and so forth, we 
may group them as " species " under a more general class 
or " genus," viz., "agricultural implements ". With these 
we may take other things, such as carpenters' "tools," 
"surgical instruments," "machines," and the like, and 
bring them under a still more general head, '' instru- 
ments of labour". Or we start from a more compre- 
hensive class, say " man," and by introducing a logical 
" difference," e.g., white and coloured, savage and civilised, 
proceed to less comprehensive ones included under the 
first.^ This downward movement from the general to 
the particular is known as Logical Division. It proceeds 
not by a gradual elimination of differences but by a 
gradual addition of them, by what is called " determina- 
tion ". Thus the notion " figure" is further determined 
by the addition of the logical difference " rectilinear " : 
this again by the addition of the differentiating quality 
''three-sided," and so forth. 

The most elaborate examples of this orderly arrange- 
ment of things are seen in the classifications of the natural 
sciences, e.g., botany. Any general notion, however, may 
thus be connected with other allied notions, and so the 
germ of a classification obtained. In this way we bring 
together the classes "house," "church," etc., under the 
higher class "building"; or, to illustrate the reverse 

^ Difference {differentia) as a logical term means the qualities which 
must be added to those connoted by the name of a genus in order to 
make up the connotation of the name of one of its species. For a 
fuller account of " genus," " species " and " difference," see Jevons, 
Elementary Lessons in Logic, lesson xii. 



348 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (A) CONCEPTION. 

process, we divide the class " book " into sub-classes 
according to its purpose (amusing, instructive) or size 
(octavo, etc.). Even the notions corresponding to 
*' abstract names " admit of this orderly treatment. For 
example, we can classify the several sorts of colour, and 
the several varieties of human character. In geometry, 
geography, and grammar there is ample room for more 
elaborate classifications. 

The Definition of Concepts. A very important 
part of the logical regulation of the concept consists in 
what is known as the definition of names (or concepts). 
To define a name in the logical sense is to "unfold its 
connotation," to enumerate more or less completely the 
several characters or qualities which make up its properly 
understood meaning. Such a process of getting at the 
essentials of a name implies a careful comparison of 
instances, an analytical separation of the several common 
qualities, and an explicit enumeration of these in words. 
This last constitutes what is specifically known as 
definition. In this way, for example, a boy comes to know 
and to formulate in language the several constituent 
properties of "a square," "a metal," '-a civilised country". 
Now we have seen that children go some way to- 
wards forming general ideas, for example, the generic 
images answering to the first ideas of " flower," " man," 
and so forth, before they are able to represent distinctly 
the several characters or qualities which form the 
connotation of these names. It is only as thought-, 
activity develops that the more methodical analysis of 
concepts required for logical purposes becomes possible. 
When this has been carried out the mind will be able 
to retain the essentials of the concept by means of the 



DEFINITION OF NAMES. 349 

verbal definition. When, for example, a boy has learnt 
that glass is a transparent and brittle substance, com- 
posed of certain materials, that a civilised country is one 
which has government and laws, industries, and so forth, 
a firm apprehension of the group of properties by help 
of the verbal memory will serve to give distinctness to 
the concept. 

A second and subordinate part of this process of 
definition consists in the discrimination of the concept 
from other and allied concepts. The precise meaning of 
a word is only brought out by setting the underlying 
concept over against its opposite or contrast, and by 
discriminating it from more nearly allied notions. Thus, 
for example, the notion "wise" is elucidated by con- 
trasting it with "foolish," and further by distinguishing 
it from allied notions, such as " learned". Clear think- 
ing implies a formed habit of carefully distinguishing 
words and their meanings one from another. 

This process of definition involves a reference to a 
classification of things. What is commonly spoken of as 
" logical definition " implies this reference. The process 
may be described as follows : I want to define the name 
" iron," that is, to set forth the implied qualities of this 
substance. I view it as a " species " or sub-class, of a 
higher class or " genus," i^i^., " metal ". I then proceed 
to define it by saying that it is a kind of metal marked 
off from other kinds by certain " difierences " or differ- 
•entiating qualities, such as a particular weight (specific 
gravity), and so forth. Such a mode of defining is of 
great convenience in all cases where the number of 
characteristic qualities is great. By explaining that iron 
is a metal we at once tell a child (who knows what a 



350 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (A) CONCEPTION, 

metal is) about it all that this name comiotes. But this is 
not the only advantage. To define by naming " genus " 
and " difference " (or " differences ") is to give the proper 
place of a concept in a system of concepts. When, for 
example, I define a square as a rectangular figure with 
its four sides equal each to each, I at once bring out the 
relation of square to rectangle, and, what is equally im- 
portant, mark off" "square" from "oblong". In the 
clear thinking out and naming of " differences," we have 
a valuable means of securing distinctness of concepts, in 
the sense of clear discrimination of one concept from 
the allied concepts. 

The logical definition of a class-name, as just explained, must be 
carefully distinguished from the filling out of the denotation by 
enumeration of sub-classes. It is not, strictly speaking, a definition 
of the name " quadruped " to say that it is " a horse," " a cow," " a 
cat," and so forth. It is one thing to unfold the connotation of a 
name (logical '* definition "), another to mark out the area of its de- 
notation (logical " division "). Yet, as we have just seen, the two are 
closely connected. In logical definition there is a partial reference to 
class-relations. And this may well be supplemented by a fuller ex- 
hibition of these relations. As we saw above, our concepts are apt to 
grow indistinct (and, as a result of this, inexact) because the names are 
no longer kept in vitalising contact with real things. Now, one simple 
way of keeping a class-name in contact with things is by setting forth 
the principal sub-classes included under it. Thus the child who knows 
and remembers that " quadruped " consists of the familiar varieties, 
cow, sheep, dog, and so forth, is in little danger of using the name as 
an empty symbol. If he should forget for a moment what quadruped 
means, his knowledge of the field of denotation to which the name 
applies, that is to say, of the variety of four-footed animals, would soon 
enable him to recover the meaning of the term. 

EDUCATIONAL CONTROL OF CONCEPTION. 

Relation of the Educator to Abstraction. The 
problem of exercising children in analysis and generali- 



EDUCATION AS EXACTING THOUGHT. 351 

sation is one of special importance and of special diffi- 
culty. Its special importance depends on the fact that 
the systematic carrying up of knowledge of particulars 
into a general form underlies all that we mean by the 
higher or more scientific kind of intelligence. Its special 
difficulty lies in the fact that all the higher processes of 
abstraction involve a peculiar effort, which effort is, in 
average cases at least, only forthcoming where the forces 
of education are firmly applied. Yet even here it is 
easy to exaggerate the natural antagonism of the young- 
mind to the processes of education. It has been the 
fashion, especially among school teachers, to say that 
children delight in the concrete, and find moving away 
from the concrete in the process of abstraction arduous 
and distasteful. But we are coming to see that much of 
their dislike for generalities is the result of bad methods 
of instruction, of " springing " the higher abstractions, 
such as those of grammar, too suddenly on their minds. 
As we have seen, children spontaneously occupy their 
minds in discovering resemblances among things and in 
the more simple kinds of generalisation. There is, in- 
deed, a real intellectual satisfaction for a child as for an 
adult in waking up for the first time to a similarity 
between apparently dissimilar things. A young child's 
face may be seen to brighten on first discovering 
some similarity between things, as when a little boy 
twenty-six months old, watching a dog panting after a 
run, exclaimed with evident pleasure, " Dat like a puff- 
puff ! " (railway engine).^ And to some extent this plea- 
sure may be utilised in developing the child's thought- 
activity. If only we take care to proceed wisely, to 
1 For other examples, see my Studies of Childhood, pp. 162 ff., 426 fl. 



352 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (A) CONCEPTION. 

begin with simple exercises, and at the outset to supply 
the small learner with the necessary concrete examples 
out of which the notions have to be formed, we may 
find that the work of generalisation, though demanding 
an effort, will turn out to be interesting and even enjoy- 
able.i 

Simple Exercises in Generalisation. The training 
of the mind in thought-activity should begin in close 
connection with sense-observation. As pointed out 
above,^ the analysis of objects into their constituent 
parts and qualities which underlies the perfected form 
of perception is a rudimentary exercise in abstract 
thought. Such analysis must at first be carried out 
hand in hand with the comparison of the particular 
object inspected with others. In this way, as we have 
seen, a child is led to apprehend the existence of qualities, 
such as the weight of a piece of clay or lead, by having 
the object brought into juxtaposition with other objects 
resembling it and contrasting with it in respect of its 
weight. It follows from this that early lessons in the 
analysis of sense-presentations involve a simple exercise 
in arranging things in classes, that is to say, in 
generalisation (cp. above, p. 204). 

The more complete and methodical kind of exercise in 
generalisation aims at leading the child's mind to grasp 
the common qualities of a recognised group or class. 
Here the first all-important step is a judicious selection 

1 n There is nothing the human mind grasps with more delight than 
generalisation or classification, when it has already made an accumu- 
lation of particulars ; but nothing from which it turns with more re- 
pugnance in its previous state of inanition " (Isaac Taylor). 

2 See p. 197. 



EXERCISES IN GENERALISATION. 853 

of particulars for inspection. In making this selection 
the teacher should remember that it is first impressions 
which give the peculiar stamp to our ideas. A child 
who has first learned what an isosceles triangle is from 
the gable of a house will always tend to think of the 
form in this particular embodiment. Hence, the illus- 
trative examples first brought under the attention of 
the pupil should be such as most clearly exhibit the 
characteristic qualities of the class, and therefore best 
serve as its representatives. In an elementary lesson on 
botany, specimens of leaf, flower, root, and so forth, 
showing the typical form, should be preferred to ex- 
treme instances diverging from the common type. In 
leading up to geometrical concepts, again, a teacher 
should make his representative instances typical, select- 
ing, for example, as the first illustration of a rectangle 
one having a certain proportion between its two 
adjacent sides, so that it may at once be seen to 
have four sides, and yet two pairs of sides of unequal 
length. 

In order to make the essenti>al qualities prominent 
and impressive, and to reduce the attractive form of 
accidental individual accompaniments, the teacher will 
do well, wherever it is possible, to isolate the former. 
This is effected in geometrical teaching by presenting to 
the pupil the attribute of form in pure isolation from 
its accompaniments in concrete objects, such as its 
colour. The drawing of a straight line or a circle on the 
blackboard (though a very rough contrivance from a 
strict!}^ mathematical point of view) is an enormous aid 
to the formation of a clear concept of what is meant 

24 



354 THOUGHT-ACTivixy : (a) conception. 

by these names. ^ This valuable expedient of isolation 
may further be made use of in lessons on number, 
in which, by employing small and unattractive objects, 
such as peas, children's attention may be led more 
readily to focus itself on the property of number. 

It follows, from what has been said above, that a 
sufficient variety of instances must be supplied in order 
to ensure a distinct and accurate concept of a class. 
Nothing is more fatal to a clear and lasting appre- 
hension of a generality than haste in slurring over the 
preliminary part of the process of generalisation, viz., 
a due inspection and comparison of concrete examples. 

No doubt a certain discretion is needed here. The 
number of instances necessary to a clear concept is 
not the same in every case. A teacher may easily 
confuse a child by introducing too many examples 
at one time. All true instruction means selection 
and simplification of nature's material, and the great 
thing at the outset is to present fitting examples. 
In certain cases, as Dr. Bain observes, it may not be 
necessary to go beyond these. One or two good 
illustrative instances of a single property, e.g., trans- 
parency or weight, may suffice for a clear apprehension 
of the property.'^ On the other hand, it may safely be 
said that variety of illustrative instances is especially 
important in bringing out less obvious properties, such 
as number and form. The same is still more manifestly 
true in the case of classes of objects constituted by a 

1 As pointed out above, form, as conceived of by the geometrician, 
is not merely the result of abstraction or isolation, but involves a 
measure of idealisation (compare p. 321). 

^Education as a Science, chap, vii., p. 197. 



USE OF EXAMPLES IN GENERALISING. 355 

number of properties, such as metal, plant, and the 
like. Here it becomes important to exhibit as soon 
as possible something of the range of variety of the 
objects composing the class. Hence, while it may be 
right at the outset to keep to one or two representative 
examples, the teacher does well to take the child on 
to a discovery of the same characteristic group of 
qualities in widely dissimilar surroundings. In this 
wider search for "the one in the many" the teacher 
should make use of the child's mind, getting him to 
re-discover for himself the properties, first apprehended 
by the typical example or examples, in their new settings. 
To know something of the rich diversity of objects 
covered by the term "plant" is necessary to a full 
understanding of it as a class-name. 

Once more, throughout this training of a child's mind 
in thought-activity the teacher should seek to combine 
the exercise of discrimination with that of assimilation. 
In developing the concept " transparent body," for in- 
stance, he should invite the child to distinguish between 
transparent and opaque bodies. Similarly, in unfolding 
the qualities of " plant " he should differentiate the class 
from that of " animal ' '. In this way even the first 
simple exercises in generalisation should be made to sub- 
serve classification, that is, the due arrangement of 
classes in their logical order. 

Definition and Explanation of Names. This ex- 
ercise in the comparing and grouping of objects should 
be supplemented by supplying the proper name of the 
class, and enumerating in the form of a definition the 
several qualities detached by the process of generalisa- 
tion. This part of the process is attended with its own 



356 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (A) CONCEPTION. 

peculiar risks. It is often forgotten that definition is 
the suniviing up in a concise formula of knowledge 
already gained by observation. Definition does not pre- 
cede, it follows the careful inspection of things. It is 
only when the qualities of things have been inspected 
and marked ofi' by suitable names that a definition has 
any intelligible meaning for a child. Yet I am under 
the impression that I have heard a teacher begin a lesson 
in geography with a series of definitions of continent, 
island, and the rest, before making any attempt to 
elucidate by inspection of examples the nature of these 
classes of objects. Even in teaching a subject which is 
supposed to begin with definitions, like geometry, the 
teacher should aim at supplying direct knowledge of the 
things, viz., the elementary forms — straight line, right 
angle, etc. — the nature of which is to be brought to 
light by the definition. It is coming to be recognised, 
too, that even in dealing with so abstract a subject as 
grammar the definition of verb, adverb, or other class, 
should follow and grow out of a comparative examina- 
tion of concrete examples. 

The logical rules of definition will be helpful to a 
teacher in supplying good definitions. The test of a 
good definition is that it enables us at once to recognise 
members of the class, and not to confuse these with 
members of other classes. In order to this the de- 
finition must be based on essential and not accidental 
qualities, and must enumerate a sufficient number of 
essential qualities. To define a " church " as " a building 
with a steeple," or a " metal " as *' something hard and 
' shiny ' or lustrous," would be to define badly. Reference 
to a higher class (genus) may well be resorted to when 



DEFINITION OF NAMES. 357 

the pupil already knows this. Thus the easiest and 
most satisfactory way of defining the term " sledge," 
after showing a model or picture of the vehicle, would be 
by bringing it under the class " carriage," and giving as 
diflference the presence of runners in place of wheels. 
If, however, the higher class is not already known, 
logical definition becomes impracticable. It would be 
absurd, for example, to define a whale as a mammal 
before the child had reached the idea of mammal. It 
may be added that in the early stages a teacher should 
not aim at the ideal perfection of definition required by 
logic. It is necessary to supply definitions of terms, 
e.g./' plant," " metal," before a child is able to apprehend 
all the obscurer properties known to the botanist and 
chemist. The teacher's aim here must be to get as 
near as possible to a good scientific definition. 

The true use of a definition is found in its application 
to new examples. When, for example, the term " cape " 
is defined (by help of an examination of examples) a 
child should be encouraged to find on the atlas new in- 
stances ; similarly in the case of geometrical, grammatical 
and other definitions. We are apt to think that an 
abstraction is the goal of knowledge ; in truth it is but 
the temporary resting-place. The real use of abstrac- 
tions — save, indeed, those which, like the concepts of the 
higher mathematics, may be said to move in a sphere of 
their own, remote from that of reality— -is to enable us 
to think more meaning into what we see. A child who 
has formed the concept " leaf," and attained by means of 
a good definition a precise knowledge of its general struc- 
ture and function, is able to read more into the particular 
leaves which come under his observation. Only it must 



358 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (a) CONCEPTION. 

be remembered, as Lange says, that such an application 
of a concept to the concrete " seldom comes of itself; it 
must be taught, shown and practised in every branch of 
study "} As already suggested, the teacher in unfolding 
and defining concepts on the side of their connotation 
should always have his eye on the wide and varied field 
of their denotation. If he wants his pupil's " con- 
ceptual knowledge " to be more than verbal, to be real 
and living, he must see to it that it is brought into 
touch, and kept in touch, with the rich manifoldness of 
the concrete world. 

Explaining the Meaning of Words. A special 
problem in developing children's conceptual thought 
arises from the circumstance that, since they come 
into contact with grown-up people's words and have 
a strong impulse to appropriate them, they begin to use 
them before experience has enabled them fully to grasp 
their meaning. As a result of this they go through a stage 
of partial apprehension, and even of misapprehension, of 
many of our words. Although this cannot wholly be 
avoided, yet, by taking pains to explain what is explicable 
to childish intelligence, a parent or teacher may greatly 
reduce the amount and the duration of this indistinct and 
confused conception. How important is it, for example, 
to explain to children the different meanings of the same 
word, and to exercise their minds in distinguishing be- 
tween the primary, and the secondary and often figura- 
tive, signification. Children are wont to take all our 
expressions with literal exactness; and they should be 

See liis volume Apperception, p. 225 f. This application of the 
concept to the concrete example will be dealt with more fully when we 
come to consider the completed processes of thought. 



EXPLAINING THE MEANING OF WOKDS. 359 

warned against this where it is likely to lead to misappre- 
hension.i 

Although he is called on in this way to explain words 
the educator must J^eep to the general rule, "things 
before names," or better, " names only so far as made 
intelligible by, and required to swppleiment, knowledge 
of things ".^ To explain a term is always and necessarily 
to make some appeal to childish experience, to the world 
of fact. Thus in explaining a moral term, e.g., " unjust " 
or " faithful," the educator should take pains to go back 
to illustrations supplied by the child's own experience 
and the knowledge already assimilated by oral instruc- 
tion and reading. Where, as in explaining many of 
the terms used in history, the instructor cannot thus 
appeal to quite pertinent examples in the child's ex- 
perience, the utmost use must be made of the analogies 
which that experience affords so as to secure the 
construction of ideas, as clear as possible, of concrete 
examples. 

The educator should keep jealous watch over the 
child's use of words with the- view of correcting a 
slovenly application of them. Clear thinking finds its 
greatest aid in verbal expression, and children should be 
encouraged to express their ideas as clearly as possible. 
Pains should be taken to test their knowledge of 
the meaning of terms by getting them to supply 
examples and even to frame simple definitions. In- 

^ Instances of this and other kinds of misapprehension of meaning 
are given in my Studies of Childhood, p. 183 ff. 

2 Madame Necker well observes: "When the want of a word has 
preceded the possession of it. the child can apply it naturally and 
justly". 



360 thought-activity: (a) conception. 

tellip^ent children are quite able to do this, and will 
sometimes do it spontaneously. Thus a boy, nine and a 
half years old, once explained to a younger brother, 
aged six and a half, that a hymn "is a song sung in 
church," and the latter replied : " It is a song with long 
words in it". In both these definitions we have the 
form of logical definition by " genus " and " diflference," 
though accidental qualities are substituted for essential 
in the " diflference ". By such means the educator can 
work against the baneful tendency to use words loosely 
and unintelligently, or it may be inaccurate^. In thus 
insisting on a thinking out of the meanings of words we 
may be satisfied with a rough approximation to scientific 
accuracy, so long as the meanings are definite and clear 
to the child's mind. As knowledge widens the teacher 
should take pains to supplement and correct these first 
crude notions, substituting exact for rough and inexact 
definitions. 

Order of Taking up Abstract Studies. The various 
subjects of instruction exercise the child's power of 
abstraction in a very unequal degree, and so should be 
taken up at different times. The amount of thought- 
activity involved in the formation of the more obvious 
classes of natural objects, such as "house," "bridge," 
"bird," is so slight that it may, as observed, be com- 
menced in the first years in connection with the observa- 
tion of the senses. More difficult exercises, e.g., the 
building up of clear ideas of number and geometrical 
form, belong to the later kindergarten period. A careful 
thinking out of the class-relations of natural history, such 
as those of plants, presupposes a still higher development 
of thought-activity, of analysis, comparison, and discrim- 



ORDER OF ABSTRACT STUDIES. 361 

ination. A yet more decided leap is taken when we pass 
from these to the more difficult mathematical con- 
ceptions — as " square root," " proportionate figure," the 
abstruse notions of physics — as "rigid body," "mechan- 
ical work," the concepts of grammar — as "verb," "subject," 
and the more abstruse ideas of history and morals — as 
"state," and justice.^ 

The problem, When is it possible and most advan- 
tageous to take up these more abstract subjects? is one 
of the most perplexing ones in the art of education. 
Individual children appear to differ so much in respect 
of the rapidity of this side of intellectual development 
that no definite rule of universal application can be laid 
down. One may, however, safely say that in the past, 
and even in the present, the tendency has been to take 
pupils on too soon to these more severe intellectual 
exercises. It costs a far greater effort to think out one 
of these abstractions at the ag-e of ten or twelve than at 
the age of sixteen, and in the end it is not so well 
thought out. Here the difficulty is not so much the 
want of a sufficient range of observation — though this 
is important — as the want of the power of thought and 
of the adequate development of the higher organs 
of the brain on which this power is known to depend. 
In spite of the pressure put on teachers to urge 
forward their pupils, especially the clever ones, they 
will be wise to remember that in all that exercises 
thought the ''short-cut" is essentially the longer 
route. 

1 One of the knotty points in this question of order of abstractness 
is the proper position of Grammar viewed under its more logical 
aspects. See Bain, Education as a Science, p. 213. 



362 thought-activity: (a) conception, 

references for reading. 

For a fuller knowledge of the fundamental processes of thought and 
the formation of General Ideas, the following may be referred to 
Sully, The Human Mind, chap. xi. ; J. Ward, article " Psychology" in 
the Encyclop. Britannica (" Intellection," p. 75 ff.), and G. F. Stout, 
Analytic Psychology, vol. ii., chaps, ix. and x. The reader of French 
may with advantage consult Th. Ribot's volume, U Evolution des Idees 
Gcnerales. The development of the notion of Self is specially dealt 
with by W. James, Psychology, chap. xii. 

The early development of General Ideas in connection with that of 
Language is illustrated by H. Taine, On Intelligence, part i., book i. 
chap, ii., section v. ; B. Perez, The First Three Years of Childhood, 
chap. X., sections ii.-iv. (and more fully in his later work, UEducatioyv 
intellectuelle, chaps, iv.-vi.) ; W. Preyer, The Development of the In- 
tellect ; G. Compayre, L'' Evolution intellectuelle et morale de Venfant^ 
chap, xi., and Sully, Studies of Childhood, chap, v. 

On the training of children in orderly processes of conception the 
student may consult A. Bain, Education as a Science, chap, vii., pp. 
191-197; Lloyd Morgan, Psychology for Teachers, chap, v., and S. S. 
Laurie, Institutes of Education, part ii., lecture vii. On the manage- 
ment of language in connection with these exercises, he may further 
consult Lloyd Morgan, op. cit., chap. viii. 

Among foreign works the following may be mentioned : E. Rayot, 
Lemons de Psychologie, xii. and xv. ; H. Marion, Le(;.ons de Psychologic, 
xlii. ; F. Queyrat, U Abstraction et son role dans V Education in- 
tellectuelle ; Beneke, Erziehungs und Unterrichtslehre, §§ 26-28 and 
30-38 ; Waitz, Allgemeine Pddagogik, §§ 21, 22 ; Dorpfeld, Die 
schulmdssige Bildung der Begriffe (published by Bertelsmann, Giiters- 
loh). 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (B) JUDGING AND EEASONING. 

The process of conception unfolded in the last chapter is 
incomplete thought-activity. In order to think in the 
complete sense we require not only to have general ideas 
but to discover and set forth the relations of these to 
objects. A full, explicit setting forth of such relations is 
what we mean by judging. Thus I judge when I say 
that this particular figure is a rectangle, i.e., possesses 
the characteristic qualities of the rectangle. A yet more 
full and complex process of thought grows out of this 
judging, and is known as reasoning (compare above, p. 
310 f .). The two processes are so closely connected that 
it will be found most convenient to deal with them to- 
gether. 

THE PROCESS OF JUDGING. 

Meaning of Judgment. In common life we say that 
a man judges when he comes to a decision about a ques- 
tion, as when the judge decides a matter in a court of 
law. This presupposes a question, room for doubt, and 
a more or less complicated process of weighing evidence. 
In mental science the term is used in a more compre- 
hensive sense. We judge whenever we go through any 
mental process which ends in a proposition, i.e., in an 
ajjirmation or negation of something. Thus I am said 



364 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (B) JUDGING AND REASONING 

to judge when I observe anything in an object, and pro- 
nounce on this, as in saying, *' This flower is a rose," 
or "This rose has a rich perfume". 

This process of judging illustrates the two fundamental 
elements in thought-activity, viz., analysis and synthesis 
(compare above, p. 307 f .). It is evident that before I can 
think, " This stone is a flint," or " This plate is dirty," I 
must analyse what is presented. In the former case I 
specially focus attention on the group of flint-marks in 
the object before my eyes ; in the second I selectively 
note the appearance of dirt and its local relation to the 
plate as a whole ("on the plate"). While, however, 
judging frequently implies analysis, it even more evi- 
dently implies synthesis. To judge is clearly to discern 
and to mark off as a special object of thought some 
connecting relation. Thus in judging that the letter O 
is an oval I mentally " relate," i.e., bring into mutual 
relation, the shape of the letter and the oval form. All 
judging is thus keeping two ideas distinct as two 
ideas, and at the same time combining them by help 
of some relation, such as similarity, or proximity in 
place or time. 

The result of the process of judging when properly set 
forth in language is commonly called a "judgment". 
Whether we can judge without putting the result into a 
clear verbal form is a disputed point ; what is certain is 
that all clear discernment of relations expresses itself in 
lanp-uao-e, audible or silent. The verbal form in which 
every result of judging admits of being expressed is a 
statement, or what logicians call a Proposition. The 
" subject " of the proposition answers to the thing about 
which we affirm (or deny), and the " predicate" to that 



PROCESS OF JUDGING. 365 

which is affirmed (or denied). Thus, in saying that 
" Fire warms," a person is affirming of the fire (the sub- 
ject), the possession of a certain power, viz., that of 
warming (the predicate). 

Now, in thus "predicating" something of a subject we 
are representing and apprehending as such what we call 
fact or reality. When a child says that his food is hot 
he is telling us something about the real world, or 
at least that portion of it which is now present to his 
senses. Thus to judge is to decide about a real state 
of things, and a judgment "properly clothed in lan- 
guage is always a declaration about the real world. 
This applies alike to judgments about external objects 
and events, and the equally real world of our impressions 
and feelings. This being so, every judgment is from a 
logical point of view regarded as true or false according 
as it correctly represents or misrepresents the sphere of 
reality. Our judgments are only true when we mentally 
relate things in accordance with their real or objective 
relations. 

From this short account of the process of judging it 
may be seen that it is coextensive with the whole of our 
knowledge. Everything that we know or suppose that 
we know involves an element of this process, and, when 
it becomes distinct knowledge, is susceptible of being 
explicitly set forth in a proposition. Thus, as we have 
seen, in our everyday acts of perception we mentally 
apprehend a real tangible object lying at a particular 
distance from us. As soon as we analyse our percept 
and think out the relations implied, we reach rudi- 
mentary judgments, e.g., " This object lies in front of 
me, so far oif, is of such a colour," and so forth. 



366 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (b) JUDGING AND EEASONING. 

Relation of Conception to Judging. It seems 
evident that judging, as connecting two ideas one with 
another, is a more complex mental process than con- 
ception. Every explicit and definite judgment implies a 
concept already formed. We cannot affirm anything of 
a concrete individual object, as when we say, " This is a 
fossil," or "This substance is transparent," without 
already having the idea of fossil or of transparency. 
Indeed, our judgments about individual things, the first 
which we form, are commonly described as applications 
of our concepts to new individual instances. In saying 
that this object is a fossil we pick out and recognise, by 
help of our previous conceptual knowledge, the group 
of characters which is decisive as to whether a thing is 
a fossil. In other words, the possession of a concept 
enables us to recognise the " one in the many" to say 
what general characters the concrete object now jyre- 
sented to us possesses and how it is to be classed. 

On the other hand, although the judgment in its 
perfected verbal form seems to presuppose the concept, 
it must be remembered that the formation of the concept 
itself, just because it implies a true thought-process, in- 
volves a simple kind of judging. Thus a child in form- 
ing the idea "heavy" has to compare heavy objects and 
to relate them as agreeing each with each in respect of 
this quality, and this clearly includes a number of simple 
judgments. So again, in building up the more complex 
concepts, such as " metal," a child has to combine or 
" synthesise " into a single whole a number of qualities, 
e.g., weight, hardness, metallic lustre. Now this work 
of combining qualities can only advance gradually as 
the child widens his knowledge of the properties of the 



CONCEPTION AND JUDGMENT. 367 

object. Every such extension takes place by a process 
of judging, e.g., " The hard heavy bright thing (metal) 
is also a conductor of heat ". 

We may say, then, that our concepts are formed by 
help of a series of simple processes of judging, and 
conversely the developm^ent and improvement of our 
concepts prepares the way for a clearer and more 
exact kind of judgment. 

Principal Conditions of Judging. It is easy to see 
from this account of the process of judging that it can 
only be carried out when certain conditions are realised. 

(a) To begin with, before we can judge we must have 
the requisite materials for forming a judgment. These 
are supplied either by our own individual experience or 
by what we learn from others. 

It is evident that the ability to judge about any 
matter presupposes not only a close examination of 
what is presented at the moment but a careful process 
of observation and of analysis in the past and a ready 
reproduction of the results of these processes. I cannot 
decide whether this flower is an orchid, or this stone an 
onyx, unless I have already carefully observed examples 
of each class and mentally marked off its distinguishing 
characters. 

With respect to what we learn from others, it is to be 
noted first of all that a child who acquires and assimilates 
most from his parents, teachers, and others, will have 
much more material with which to judge. But in order 
to use this he must not merely adopt passively and 
mechanically what is told him, but must think it out for 
himself, analysing it and detecting its relations to other 
things which he knows. 



368 thought-activity: (b) judging and eeasoning. 

(6) In the second place, to judge is to carry out a 
'process of reflection on given materials. This again 
means that a special effort of will is put forth in focussing 
attention on this and that aspect and relation of our 
experience. Children are incapable of judging about 
most things, partly because they lack the materials and 
partly because they have not sufficient power of will to 
carry out the difficult focussings of attention involved. 

This controlling action of a steady purpose to think 
out a matter is much more difficult when feeling and 
prejudice oppose us. An important element in good 
judging is the power to repress feeling, to look at things 
with calm, unprejudiced eyes. Here, again, we see how 
it is that children often fail to judge rightly. 

(c) Since to judge explicitly and perfectly is to cast 
one's thought into clear and suitable language, it follows 
that a last condition of judgment is the mastery of the 
verbal medium employed. As long as any haziness 
clings to our words we cannot use them properly for ex- 
pressing our thought. Children are greatly handicapped 
in setting forth their thought by their imperfect grasp 
of language. They cannot describe an object they have 
seen, setting forth precisely its relations of place and so 
forth, because they cannot readily use our highly articu- 
lated language with its adjectives, adverbs, prepositions 
and other elements. 

Early Development of Judgment. The judgment 
in its perfected articulate form is reached gradually. A 
child a year old will, as we have seen, name objects, and 
thus show that he is able to form rudimentary notions 
about them. Thus he will recognise a dog by pointing 
to the object and exclaiming, " Bow-wow ". These " re- 



EARLY JUDGMENTS. 369 

cognition-signs " may be regarded as rudimentary judg- 
ments. It is, however, a considerable step from this to 
the setting forth of the qualities of things and of the 
relations between things by means of a sentence, which 
usually begins in the second half of the second year. 

These first judgments have to do mainly with the 
child's food or other things of great practical interest 
to him; e.g., the early form of statement: " Ka in 
milk " (something nasty in milk). Towards the end of 
the second year the range of discernment shows a 
marked extension, the child coming now to observe and 
remark on anything new or striking in the objects that 
present themselves, such as the unusual size of a dog 
the unusual position of a sister lying on the floor. As 
the observing powers grow, and the child's interest in 
things widens, the number of his judgments increases. 
And as his powers of comparing objects and detecting 
their relations develop, his judgments gradually take on 
a more penetrating character. This progress in affirming 
is of course dependent not only on the growth of a finer 
and more penetrative apprehension of relations, but on 
advance in the command of words and in the construc- 
tive skill required for framing sentences. 

An important step is taken when a child learns not 
only to affirm but to deny. The use of negative signs is 
greatly aided by the habitual employment by others of 
questions. A question when understood brings home to 
the mind of a child the alternative between what we 
call the truth and falsity of a proposition. The way in 
which the negative particles are first used is very 
instructive. A child of three was in the habit of 
framing a statement and then appending the sign of 
25 



370 THOUGHT- ACTIVITY: (B) JUDGING AND REASONING. 

negation thus : " N. (his name for himself) go in water — 
no ". It was observed, further, in the case of two chil- 
dren that during the third year they were apt to couple 
affirmative and negative statements in this fashion : 
" This I's cup, not mama's cup " ; " This a nice bow-wow, 
not nasty bow-wow ". This suggests that children when 
they reach the distinction between affirmation and nega- 
tion think out the relation of opposition between a 
proposition and its contradictory} 

The development of the power of judging is marked 
by the growth of a cautious and critical spirit in rela- 
tion to affirmation. Things and their relations are more 
finety discriminated, and, as a consequence of this, are 
described more clearly and minutely. Again, the ten- 
dencies to exaggeration and misstatement due to the in- 
fluence of feeling (e.g., the desire to astonish or amuse) 
are gradually checked, and so the judgments gain in 
point of accuracy. Along with these changes, we may 
note that the earlier impulse to give reality to the pro- 
ductions of fancy is brought under control. A child's 
growing experience enables him to fashion a rudimentary 
standard of what is possible and impossible, probable 
and improbable ; and as a result of this he becomes more 
cautious in making assertions, as also in accepting those 
made by others. 

Differences among Individuals in the Ability to 
Judge. It is a matter of common observation that in- 
dividuals, adults and children alike, show marked diver- 
sities in their power of judging about things. Some are 
slow to form a judgment, and are apt to be hesitating 

' On children's first experiments in sentence-building, see my 
Studies of Childhood, p. 170 ft. 



DEVELOPMENT OF JUDGMENT. 371 

and uncertain ; others are ready, others again impulsive 
and rash. The differences of experience among persons 
as also of their power of observing and recalling what 
they observe, all affect the ability to form clear and 
certain judgments. We each of us judge best about 
things which we know best, and the same is true of 
children. As pointed out more than once, our ability to 
judge depends on our having clear general ideas of 
things. A child that has carefully observed and classi- 
fied animals, ships, and so forth is in a better position to 
pronounce on any new example of these. 

LOGICAL REGULATION OF JUDGMENTS. 

Perfections of Judgment : Clearness. As in the case 
of the general idea so in that of the judgment, it is the 
business of Logic to bring the product of thought-activity 
to its perfect form, to see that it is embodied in perfectly 
clear and unambiguous language, and to secure exact 
conformity between it and what we call reality. 

A very little examination is sufficient to show that our 
every-day judgments are apt to be imperfect in point of 
clearness as well as of objective accuracy. The judgments 
of the young and the uneducated tend to be indistinct in 
a number of ways. A common cause of this indistinct- 
ness is imperfect observation together with defective 
analysis of what is observed. This is apt to give rise to 
a vague apprehension of some relation of things, though 
the exact nature of this relation is not made clear to the 
mind. Thus a hazy-minded boy will tell you that he 
has seen a flock of wild birds, but cannot say whether 
they were near or far above his head or in what direction 
they were flying. Similarly he cannot narrate a simple 



372 thought-activity: (b) judging and eeasoning. 

occurrence so as to put the several incidents in their 
right order of time. Again, defects of memory by lead- 
ing to indistinct reproduction are a great obstacle to 
clearness of judgment. If we fail to recall the exact 
qualities of an object, we shall of course only be able to 
make vague assertions about it. 

Again, it is to be noted here, as in the case of concepts, 
that what was once clear may become hazy or indefinite 
by the divorcing of words from ideas. When a boy 
forgets the facts on which a principle is based he has no 
longer a clear mental apprehension of its meaning and 
truth. 

Once more, the intrusion of feeling into the intellectual 
domain inevitably leads to vagueness of judgment. 
What we call childish exaggeration is a striking illus- 
tration of this. The emotions of wonder and fear are 
apt to lead a child to " pile it on," as we say, in describing 
what he has seen; and this exaggeration precludes the 
finer and more precise kind of judgment. 

Vagueness of judgment is apt to show itself in a 
special manner in those opinions which we passively 
adopt from others without seeking to make them our 
own by personal observation and reflection. What a 
child learns on others' authority without bringing it 
into organic connection with the facts of his own 
experience always has something of this vagueness. 

The study of Formal Logic helps us to throw our 
judgments into as clear a form as possible. Here we 
have carefully to analyse our statements, setting forth 
the subject and the predicate, to say whether we are 
affirming or denying a predicate of a subject, also what 
is the "quantity" or range of our assertion, that is to say, 



CLEARNESS AND ACCURACY OF JUDGMENTS. 373 

whether we are asserting somethmg of an individual 
only, of a whole class, or of a part of a class. The 
exercises of Formal Logic help us, further, to see all that 
is implicitly affirmed in the assertions which we make, 
and, on the other hand, all that is implicitly denied in 
them. 

Accuracy of Judgment. Again, our judgments, like 
our general ideas, may be accurate or inaccurate. An 
accurate judgment is one which corresponds precisely 
to the realities which it represents, or which faithfully 
expresses the actual relations of things. Want of clear- 
ness in judging is very apt to lead on to inaccuracy of 
judgment. Propositions which are not clearly under- 
stood tend to be misunderstood. The more flagrant 
forms of inaccuracy arise from inaccurate observation 
and inexact reproduction. To this may be added, 
especially in the case of the young, the misappre- 
hensions into which they are apt to fall when trying 
to understand our language.^ Strong feeling, too, lead- 
ing us to expect and desire that things should be so and 
so, may bring about a considerable divergence of state- 
ment from reality. 

In addition to these sources of inaccuracy, we have 
to recognise the imperfections and limitations of each 
individual's experience. Our judgments are the out- 
come of our special type of experience, our individual 
associations. A child with a loving thoughtful mother 
will form a very different opinion about mothers from 
that formed by a child who is so unfortunate as to 
have a hard and unsympathetic one. Accuracy of 
judgment thus presupposes an interaction between the 
1 Examples are given in my Studies of Childhood, p. 183 £f. 



374 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (b) JUDGING AND EEASONING. 

individual and the social or general intelligence. In 
this way our judgments are assimilated to the common 
type and so take on an "objective," as distinguished 
from "subjective," validity. 

Other Qualities of Judgment. In addition to 
clearness and accuracy, logic requires our judgments to 
have other perfections. By demanding that the state- 
ments we make be true to known facts, it virtually de- 
mands that they be held to — at least until new evidence 
shows them to be untrue. In this way it acts restrain- 
ingly on our natural impulsiveness and capriciousness. It 
insists on our taking sufficient pains to see that we are 
right before we pronounce an opinion, and that having 
formed an opinion we do not lightly and thoughtlessly 
cast it aside. 

It may be well to add that this logical control of 
judgment does not require us to refuse to reconsider 
our opinions in the light of new facts. Obstinacy of 
belief, in the sense of unwillingness to correct narrow 
and inadequate opinions, is clearly a fault. A person 
who recognises how narrow his field of experience really 
is when compared with that of the whole human race 
will cultivate a certain openness of mind. We can only 
approximate to the logical ideal of just and sound views 
of things by long and painstaking processes of self- 
correction. 

In like manner the logical requirement of objective 
validity does not mean that we are to sacrifice individual 
conviction in order to conform to the opinions of those 
by whom we happen to be surrounded. On the contrary, 
it rather imposes on each of us the duty of thinking out 
things for himself, so that the truth of things may be 



STABILITY AND INDEPENDENCE OF JUDGMENTS. 375 

gradually reached by a co-operation of many individual 
minds. Thus a certain measure of independence is an 
indispensable quality of judgment. 

INFERENCE OR REASONING. 

In the process of judging we merely establish a rela- 
tion of thought between a subject and a predicate. Such 
a process may, as we have seen, grow immediately out 
of observation — as when I say, " This is chalk," — or out of 
memory — as when I say, " I saw the flag flying yester- 
day ". From a mere process of judgment of this kind 
we have to distinguish a judgment which results from 
a process of inference. When, for example, I notice 
that the sky is overcast, and predict a shower of rain, 
my assertion is clearly the result of an inference. I regard 
the overcast sky as a sign of rain, and infer from the 
presence of the one the oncoming of the other. 

Process of Inference. It is evident from the above 
example that inference is based on the detection of 
similarity among our experiences. I predict the 
shower because I analyse the presentation of the sky 
and identify certain of its features as similar to what I 
have seen before. With this assimilative analysis there 
goes a process of synthesis or combination by help of 
contiguous suggestion. The presentation of the dark 
lowering sky calls up the idea of rain ; and this idea, 
when combined with the presentation, becomes an ex- 
pectation of rain. Inference is thus a movement or 
transition of thought from something known to some- 
thing heretofore unknown, hut noiv known as a con- 
clusion from the first. 

Inference takes on a lower and a higher form. In the 



376 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (b) JUDGING AND EEASONING. 

former the mind passes at once to a new and as yet un- 
known fact without clearly setting forth the ground or 
reason of the conclusion. Thus a child will infer that 
this water will wet, that this grown-up person will be 
able to tell him something he wants to know, and so 
forth, without distinctly recalling the fact that other 
water has made things wet, that others have satisfied his 
curiosity. This is presumably the way in which the lower 
animals proceed when inferring as to the proximity of 
prey, of their enemies, and the like. And children begin 
by drawing conclusions in this informal and unreflective 
manner. A step towards a more reflective process of 
inference is taken when a child distinctly recalls some 
fact or facts of past experiences, and applies this by way 
of analogy to a new case, as when he argues that pussy 
requires bathing and wiping because he himself is sub- 
jected to these operations by the nursery authorities. 
Here there is a full conscious transition of thought from 
some known fact to a similar or analogous case. 

A still more reflective and complete process of reason- 
ing takes place when a child is able by help of general 
ideas and names to seize and set forth to his mind a 
general truth, making this the reason or ground of his 
conclusion. When, for example, he reaches the universal 
truth that adults are better informed than children, and 
consciously reasons from this that the grown-up stranger, 
A. B., will be able to tell him something, he may be 
said to reason in an explicit and formally correct or 
logical manner. 

The advantages of this procedure by way of general 
truths or " principles " are manifest. To begin with, it 
is a great simplification of our mental processes, a great 



INFEEENCE AND KEASONING. 377 

economising of our forces, to bind together, in memory, a 
multitude of " particulars " in a general proposition.- In 
the second place, it is only when we have such general 
truths at our command that we can reason with pre- 
cision and certainty. So long as a child passes directly 
from one fact to another on the ground of similarity or 
analogy, his conclusion is more or less precarious. If, 
for example, a boy infers that a piece of wood will float 
because other pieces tried by him have floated, he may 
make a mistake. If, however, he first satisfies himself 
on the general question whether all sorts of wood float, 
he will be able to conclude with certainty. All the 
higher processes of thought, including the whole of what 
we mean by science, are illustrations of such explicit or 
logical processes of reasoning. They are reasoning at 
its best. 

Relation of Judging to Reasoning. We may now 
understand the relation of judging to inferring. In its 
higher or more developed form reasoning presupposes 
judging. Formally considered, reasoning is passing from 
certain judgments to other judgments recognised as 
following from the former. Thus before a boy can ex- 
plicitly argue that a particular substance will float in 
water he must have already thought out the judg- 
ment that all substances of a certain order (e.g., those 
lighter than water) will do so. 

While, however, judgment is thus a pre-condition of 
the more reflective or logical type of reasoning, it must 
not be forgotten that there is an element of inference in 
a good deal of what is commonly described as judging. 
Even in the simple act of recognising an object by cer- 
tain visible marks, the mind commonly goes beyond what 



378 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (B) JUDaiNG AND REASONING. 

is actually observed at the moment. If, for instance, 
on looking at a stone on the road, I say, " This is a flint," 
I virtually assert about it more than I at the moment 
perceive, viz., that it is hard, that it can be split, etc. And 
this ingredient of inference becomes much more distinct 
in certain complicated processes of judging, e.g., as to the 
genuineness of a coin or a picture. 

Finally, it is plain that every process of reasoning ends 
in a judgment as its result or conclusion. In other 
words, whenever we reason we carry out a new process 
of judgment. 

To sum up : to judge and to reason are closely con- 
nected mental processes. Our reasoning processes help 
us in reaching and firmly establishing our judgments ; 
whilst, reciprocally, our judgments, when reached, 
become starting-points for new processes of reasoning. 
The relation between the two is thus very similar to 
that between conception and judging. 

Inductive and Deductive Reasoning. The full 
explicit process of reasoning by way of a universal judg- 
ment is commonly said to fall into two parts or stages. 
(a) Of these the first is the process of mentally reaching 
a general truth or principle by an examination and com- 
parison of facts : this is known as Induction, (b) The 
second stage is the process of applying the truth thus 
reached to some particular case: this is known as De- 
duction. Induction is an upward movement of thought 
from particular instances to a general truth, principle, or 
law : deduction is the reverse downward movement 
from some general principle to a particular conclusion. 

(a) Nature of Inductive Reasoning. The process 
of inductive reasoning may be defined as the setting 



INDUCTIVE REASONING. 379 

forth under the forr)% of a universal truth of some 
attribute or relation which has been observed in a 
number of variable "particulars. 

This inductive process is illustrated when a child dis- 
covers the permanent qualities of an individual object. 
That "this knife cuts," that "this pussy scratches," is a kind 
of universal truth reached by a comparison of a number 
of particular instances in which the object in question 
has cut or scratched. Here the child's mind analyses, 
compares and combines, so as to reach a proposition 
which is true of the individual thing permanently or at 
all times. 

As commonly described, however, induction goes 
beyond the individual thing and discovers what is true 
of many individuals or a " class of things ". Thus a 
child observes that his toys, spoons, knives, he himself, 
and a vast multitude of other objects, when not supported 
fall to the ground. Little by little he compares these 
facts one with another and seizes the essential circum- 
stance which runs throughout them, and the general 
truth which is implied in them. He notes that what all 
these things have in common is that they are what we 
call substantial. He then detaches this common circum- 
stance, and along with it the incident (falling to the 
ground) which has invariably accompanied it. That is 
to say, he judges that all substantial bodies tend to fall. 

It is obvious that in reaching a universal truth of this 
kind the young investigator is going far beyond the 
limits of actual observation. For the proposition, just 
because it is a general or universal one, covers the case 
of every hard or resistant substance wherever and when- 
ever met with. It is thus a true process of inference or 



380 thought-activity: (b) judging and eeasoning. 

transition from what is known to what is heretofore 
unknown. 

This process is clearly related to that of generalisation 
described above.^ In each case we trace out a similarity 
running through a diversity of things. The difference is 
that whereas in the case of generalisation we assimilate 
things merely as such, forming what is called a "class," 
in the case of induction we assimilate relations among 
things. 

It may be added that, just as there are higher and 
lower conceptions, so there are higher and lower in- 
ductions. The child commonly begins with a number 
of narrow inductions, e.g., " flies die," " birds die," and so 
forth. He then reflectively compares these one with 
another, and extricating what is common to them, 
reaches the higher truth, "All animals die". Later on 
he couples this with the kindred truth similarly reached, 
"All plants die," and so arrives at the yet more com- 
prehensive general truth, "All living things die". 

A like process of comparing instances and analytically 
separating out what is common to these from their 
variable accompaniments takes place in that important 
class of inductive reasonings which has to do with the 
relation of cause and effect. It is in this way, for 
example, that a child finds out that burning or com- 
bustion is a common cause or source of heat. 

(5) Deductive Reasoning. By means of the inductive 
processes just described a child reaches a large amount 
of general knowledge about things, including the pro- 

1 Indeed induction is often called generalisation, as when we speak 
of " a hasty generalisation," meaning a general statement hastily built 
up from fact or experience. 



INDUCTIVE AND DEDUCTIVE REASONING. 381 

perties of substances, the causes of movements, and 
generally of the changes which go on in things, the laws 
that govern human action, and the simpler truths which 
set forth the relations of time, space, and quantity, in- 
cluding number. In arriving at these, he is of course 
greatly aided by others' instruction. In many cases, 
indeed, he derives his first general knowledge from what 
others tell him, though even in these cases the knowledge 
only grows clear and real after the learner has observed 
and collected illustrations of the truth from his own 
experience. 

When he has thus amassed a certain quantity of 
general knowledge he is able to pass on to the second 
stage of explicit reasoning, namely, Deduction. By this 
is meant reasoning downward from a general truth or 
principle to some special case or class of cases. When a 
child has arrived, by way partly of observation and partly 
of instruction, at the universal truth that all persons are 
liable to make mistakes, he is apt to apply the truth by 
arguing that his mother or his governess makes mistakes. 
Here, again, the process is based on analysis and identi- 
fication, supplemented by combination or synthesis. . 

The type of deductive reasoning, when fully set forth as 

Logic requires, is known as a Syllogism. This consists of 

three parts, as in the following example : — 

All animals suffer pain (major premise). 
Flies are animals (minor premise). 
Therefore they suffer pain (conclusion). 

It is to be observed that although all reasoning, 
inductive and deductive alike, proceeds by the detection 
of likeness in things it involves a measure of dis- 
crimination as well. Thus when a child is finding his 



382 THOUGHT- ACTIVITY : (b) JUDGING AND REASONING. 

way to the simple proposition that ripe gooseberries are 
sweet, he must, it is evident, distinguish between 
instances of the ripe and the unripe fruit. Similarly 
in the case of deductive reasoning. In the arguments by 
which we reach negative conclusions we are especially 
engaged in distinguishing or marking off things one 
from another. Thus, when a parent, reasoning with his 
child, says, " That boy is not a gentleman, for no real 
gentleman despises the poor," he is discriminating between 
the genuine marks of a gentleman and those which 
point to a vulgar, or ungentlemanly type of mind. 

Application of Principles and Explanation. De- 
ductive reasoning may begin at one of two ends, so 
to speak. We may, first of all, have a principle given 
us and be asked to draw conclusions from it. This is 
known as applying a principle, or finding new illustra- 
tions of a truth. In this way, new discoveries may be 
made by a skilful combining of truths which are already 
known. When, for example, a child learns about the 
sharp incisor teeth of the rodents or " gnawers " and then 
finds out that the squirrel is a gnawer, he will be able to 
draw for himself the conclusion that squirrels possess such 
teeth. In this way the mind is able to go in advance 
of observation, and to conclude beforehand as to how 
things happen. 

In the second place, we may set out not with a general 
truth, but with a particular fact, and seek for some 
general truth under which it may be brought. This is 
known as explanation. In its simplest form, explanation 
is throwing light on a new and unfamiliar fact by point-, 
ing out its analogy to some familiar fact. This is the 
only explanation available in the case of young children 



FORMS OF DEDUCTIVE REASONING. 383 

who cannot as yet grasp general principles. A higher 
isiind of explanation consists in deducing a particular 
case from a general principle. Thus a boy explains to 
himself the fact that the whale has to come to the surface 
of the water to breathe when he connects the fact with 
the truth that the whale breathes by means of lungs. 



CHAPTER XY. 

THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (B) JUDGING AND KEASONING 
(continued). 

Growth of Reasoning Power. The development ol 
the power of inferring or drawing conclusions proceeds 
in close connection with that of the ability to judge. At 
first, as already observed, the process is instinctive or 
implicit and not reflective. The child draws a conclusion 
about the taste of this fruit, or the use of this tool, be- 
cause it is recognised as like what has been already 
observed. The first illustrations of this instinctive process 
are seen in striking out new lines of action by help of 
analogies with previous experience. This is commonly 
described as adapting means to ends. Young children's 
devices for asking for things by gesture signs illustrate 
this process. 

This informal process of inference is further seen in 
early childish expectation. When, for example, an in- 
fant shows by his gestures and cries that he knows the 
meaning of pouring water into the bath, of putting on 
his outdoor clothes, and the like, it is evident that there 
is something like inference from present signs to the 
coming experiences signified. 

A more advanced process of reasoning begins to show 
itself when the child acquires the use of language. Thus 



GEOWTH OF EEASONING POWER. 385 

a little boy was told by his father not to eat some brown 
sugar which he was taking out of a bag. He answered 
promptly and emphatically, *' Ni ! '* {i.e., nice). This 
was clearly finding a reason by way of justification, '' I 
eat it because it is nice ". 

First Inductive Reasonings. When he grows pro- 
ficient in the use of language the child proceeds to carry 
out a rude process of inductive reasoning. Needless to 
say, the conclusions drawn are often hasty enough. 
Here is an example. A boy of two and a half was 
accustomed to dwell on the fact that he would in time 
grow to be big. One day as he was using a small stick 
as a walking stick his mother told him it was too small, on 
which he at once remarked : " Me use it for walking stick 
when stick be bigger ". He had implicitly argued that 
other things besides living ones tend to grow bigger in time. 
The inductions of the young and of the uneducated are 
often of this type. The tendency of all of us is to argue 
that what is true of ourselves, and of our own little sphere 
of observation, is true of mankind and of things generally. 

Children's Idea of Cause. As observed above, in- 
ductive reasoning has to a large extent to do with the 
detecting of causal relations, and children's reasonings 
are largely directed to the causes of things. How things 
are made, how they become just what they are — these 
are problems of the greatest interest to the intelligent, 
inquiring child. 

According to Herbert Spencer and some other psycho- 
logists, children have a congenital tendency to think of 
things as having each its cause and explanatory reason. ^ 

1 Compare what was said above, pp. 78, 79, on Spencer's theory of 
Heredity. 

26 



386 THOUGHT- ACTIVITY : (b) JUDGING AND EEASONING. 

However this be, a child's mind will be led to think 
about causes by noting the regular sequences of 
events, e.g., the taking of food and the satisfaction of 
hunger, violent contact with a hard body and an un- 
pleasant bruise. He notes too that others habitually 
ascribe what happens to the action of things, and explain 
effects by ideas of causal agency. In this way he begins 
dimly to apprehend the truth that changes are produced, 
or have their causes, though it is many years before this 
truth grows perfectly clear to his mind. 

There is reason to suppose that a child models his 
first idea of cause on the pattern of his own actions. 
His first inquiries are often of the form : " Who made the 
snow ? " or " Who made the flowers grow ? " The pro- 
duction of natural changes is thought of as effected by 
actions analogous to his own. The full development of 
this tendency to assimilate natural processes to human 
actions (" anthropomorphism ") is seen in the common 
supposition of children at a certain age that everything 
has its use or purpose. The meaning of the question, 
" Why ? " in the mouth of a child of three or four seems 
equivalent to, " For what purpose or end ? " This form 
of question suggests that the young conceive of all 
changes as directed to an end, just like the changes 
which they themselves voluntarily bring about. It is 
only after a certain development of intelligence has been 
attained that they learn to distinguish between the 
sphere of human action with its determining purpose 
or end, and that of natural or physical causation.^ 

Early Eeasonings about Causes. The early 

1 For a fuller examination of children's notions of the processes of 
nature, see my Studies of Childhood, chaps, iii. and iv. 



EARLY REASONINGS ABOUT CAUSES. 387 

attempts of children to think out the causal con- 
nections between things are apt to result in crude or 
hasty generalisations. The noting of only a very slight 
analogy between things often leads a child to conclude 
that they are produced in the same way, or have a 
common cause. This tendency may produce amusing re- 
sults : for instance, a boy two years and ten months old 
said one day that he would put water on some bits of 
bread lying on his plate in order to melt them. He 
here reasoned badly from the analogy of dissolving 
his suo^ar in milk. 

Hasty induction with respect to causes shows itself 
too in other ways. The desire to find how a thing has 
been produced or " made " often leads a child to fix his 
mind on any attendant circumstance, though this may be 
only accidentally present in the case, and have nothing 
to do with the effect produced. Thus the same little boy 
at the age of two argued that milk was white because it 
came, from a white cow which he had happened to see. 

Again, the childish mind is apt to argue erroneously 
that a thing is always produced by one and the same 
cause. The child just quoted, when two years old, 
having scratched himself, and being asked how the 
blood came on his hands, said, "Fell down on path"; 
and a few months later argued that the slipping off of 
his glove was the result of the wind blowing it off. 

Such crude childish reasoning gradually gives place to 
a more careful type of generalisation as the mind de- 
velops a finer ability to analyse and compare what is 
seen. In this way things get connected with their 
proper adjuncts and causal antecedents. Not only so, 
this same development of thought-activity leads to a 



388 thought-activity: (b) judging and reasoning. 

mental grasp of truths of a wider and more abstract 
character. At the same time the growth of discrimina- 
tive power leads to a more careful discernment of the 
several elements of experience, and so to greater caution 
in making general statements. Thus children from about 
the end of the fourth year may often be observed to use 
the expressions, " some persons," " many persons," " gene- 
rally," and so forth. 

Early Progress of Deductive Reasoning. The 
same line of remark applies to the early development of 
the process of deductive reasoning. A boy of three or 
four will begin to apply simple rules to a particular case. 
He will argue, for example, that nurse is naughty be- 
cause she does something which he conceives of as a 
naughty action. As this example suggests, however, 
he is very apt to reason carelessly, to apply rules to 
cases too hastily from a vague feeling of resemblance, 
and without inquiring whether there are points of 
difference which exclude the particular case from the 
rule. 

Progress here manifests itself in two wa^^s : (a) It 
is seen in the thinking out of the less obvious applica- 
tions of a rule or principle. A child, as he grows more 
thoughtful, will be able to bring the ascent of the 
balloon under the principle of bodies floating in water, to 
recognise a breach of the law of kindness in such things 
as practical jokes and rudeness. Intelligent children of 
six or thereabout delight to apply the general truths they 
possess to new and less obvious cases, (h) Progress is 
further seen in the appearance of the discriminative 
caution already referred to. A thoughtful child is not 
only quick and penetrating in discerning new applica* 



FIRST DEDUCTIVE REASONINGS. 389 

tions of rule, he is critical in his applications, dis- 
tinguishing cases where the reason or explanation fits 
from those where it does not fit. A marked advance 
in deductive reasoning which comes distinctly later is 
seen in the ability to follow out a chain of reasoning 
such as is illustrated in a demonstration of Euclid. 

Individual Differences of Reasoning Power. 
Differences in the development and perfection of thought- 
activity reflect themselves in the inequality of the reason- 
ing processes as carried out by different individuals. To 
reason well about things is to show thought-activity in 
its most complete form. Great contrasts present them- 
selves in this respect if we compare with a scientifically 
trained mind the untrained mind of a peasant or of a 
child. In addition to such obvious general dissimilarities 
there are the less obtrusive diflerences which are con- 
nected with the prevalent manner of reasoning and the 
realm of knowledge in which the mind is most at home. 
In this way we get the " inductive " type of mind, which 
is skilful in the observation and analysis of facts, and in 
tracing out the laws of phenomena, and on the other 
hand the " deductive " type of mind, which is interested 
in abstract truths rather than in concrete facts, and is 
ready in combining these into an orderly argument. 
The former is illustrated in the physical inquirer, the 
latter in the mathematician. In this way, too, we find 
that superiority in carrying out the reasoning process is 
commonly confined to some particular and limited sphere 
of knowledge, say some department of practical afi^airs, 
or of physical science. All such differences in ability 
to reason about things turn, like other intellectual in- 
equalities, partly on differences of congenital aptitude, 



390 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (b) JUDGING AND EEASONING. 

and partly on differences in circumstances and mode cif 
education, and, more generally, range of practice.^ 

Measurement of Reasoning Power. What has been said about 
the difficulty of measuring conceptual power applies with greater force 
to reasoning power. Judgment may, indeed, be tested in simple forms 
in connection with the experiments already referred to, which ask the 
subject to decide which of two colours submitted for inspection is the 
brighter, and so forth, and estimate the exactness (by percentage of 
errors) of the answers. The influence of a preconception in biasing 
judgment has also been examined in the case of children. Thus they 
were asked to judge how heavy a large object was by lifting it after 
looking at it. The result showed that the expectation of great weight 
from looking at the size biased the judgment, making the child pro- 
nounce the object to be heavier than it really was, and that this 
effect of bias or " suggestion" was greater in the case of children than 
of adults. With regard to reasoning power, it has been suggested that 
children's ability might be tested by setting them simple arithmetical 
problems, and comparing the time taken and the percentages of errors. 
The method of measurement suggested by Ebbinghaus,i;i.?., asking school 
children to fill in lacunoe in a piece of printed matter, might be so 
arranged as to test reasoning as well as imaginative power (see above, 
p. 290). Perhaps one of the best tests for older children would be 
readiness in working out riders in geometry. Of course, care would 
have to be taken in varying the subject-matter of such experiments so 
that all sides of the reasoning faculty were included. 

LOGICAL EEGULATION OF THE REASONING PROCESSES. 

The supreme aim of the Science of Logic is to supply 
"norms," or regulative principles, by which we may 
reason correctly. This it does in part by insisting on 
our having perfectly clear concepts and judgments, as 
already explained. In addition to this it requires us to 
look critically at the relations of our ^propositions, so as 

1 The effect of practice in improving the reasoning powers in special 
directions is well illustrated by Locke, Of the Conduct of the Under- 
standing, sect. 6, pp. 20, 21. 



LOGICAL CONTEOL OF REASONING. 391 

to see whether our evidence is sufficient to justify our 
conclusion. 

Control of Inductive Eeasoning. With respect to 
the processes of inductive reasoning this regulation be- 
comes a somewhat complicated and difficult matter. It 
must suffice here to say that we move in the direction 
of the logical ideal when we take pains to examine a 
sufficient number of cases, and avoid "hasty generalisa- 
tion " from one or two facts ; when we carefully analyse 
our facts, adding, when possible, active experiment to 
observation so as to discover what are the essential condi- 
tions on which the presence of a phenomenon depends, 
and what are mere accidental accompaniments of these. 
Thus in order to reason rightly and scientifically about 
the causes of combustion, we compare numerous instances, 
such as the burning of coal in the grate, the gas flame, 
etc., and by analysing these and eliminating what is 
accidental arrive at the common circumstance, the pres- 
ence of certain combustible substances, more particularly 
carbon, and of oxygen, with which these tend to com- 
bine. By placing a piece of carbon in oxygen we after- 
wards show experimentally that these are the essential 
conditions of the result.^ 

Control of Deduction. The processes of deductive 
reasoning, though in general much simpler and easier 
to carry out than those of inductive reasoning, may be 
imperfectly accomplished and lead to an erroneous or 
invalid conclusion. Hence the need of logical principles 
to guide us. These are easily understood, and are capable 

1 The proper methods of Induction as regulated by Logic are briefly 
set forth by Jevons, Elementary Lessons in Logic, xxvii. and following 
chapters. 



392 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (B) JUDGING AND EEASONING. 

of being studied long before the principles of induction 
can be mastered. 

Without going into the technical details of logical 
science it may be pointed out that since the process 
of reasoning is essentially a detection of similarity, the 
great source of erroneous reasoning is the confusion of 
things which are not really and fundamentally simi- 
lar ; in other words, a want of discrimination. The bad 
reasoner from general principles is one who cannot see 
where similarity ends and difference begins. A large 
part of the common errors in deductive argument arise 
from ambiguity of terms. When a person fails to dis- 
tinguish between different shades of idea attaching to 
the same word, he is exceedingly liable to go astray in 
his reasonings. Thus, if it were argued that since all 
knowledge is the result of sey-education, children would 
be much better for being left to educate themselves, the 
reasoner might be convicted of confusing two meanings 
of the term self -education, viz.y that of an excep- 
tionally gifted youth like Pope, who may be able to 
take his education into his own hands, and that which 
ordinary children can and may be expected to carry out 
under the stimulation and guidance of others. 

Logical Unification of Knowledge : Science. The 
final outcome of the processes of reasoning when logically 
reduced to a systematic form is what we call an " organic 
body of knowledge," or a "science". Here we have a 
mass of facts belonging to the same order, and a number 
of general truths relating to these, all clearly and method- 
ically set forth in their proper connections. This is illus- 
trated even in those systematised branches of knowledge 
which are rather descriptive and classificatory than ex- 



SCIENCE AS EEASONED KNOWLEDGE. 6\5o 

planatory. Geography, physical and political alike, is 
a well-arranged system in which facts are dealt with 
by means of preliminary definitions of concepts, and in 
which connections of cause and effect are exhibited. 
It is, however, in the Natural Sciences, as they are 
called, that we can best see the outcome of such logical 
organisation and arrangement. Here the ideal procedure 
is the supplementing of an inductive establishment of 
principles by a deductive explanation of facts (as well 
as generalisations of a lower order) by means of these 
principles. 

This arrangement at its best discloses to view the 
internal relations of the several parts of knowledge. 
Each concrete fact is brought under its proper class; 
each single occurrence under its proper "law". Prin- 
ciples are exhibited as inductively reached from observa- 
tion of concrete facts, and reciprocally as illustrated by, 
and as supplying an explanation of, these facts. Every 
part of a science is not only logically consistent with 
every other part, but the several parts are co-ordinated 
as closely as possible one with . another, by help of the 
highest and most comprehensive generalities. 

Science is the type of logical or " objective " certainty. 
By this I mean that what is truly scientific, thought out 
by the rigorous methods of science, is objectively true, 
and can so clearly exhibit this objective truth as to 
command the assent of every intelligent mind. It is the 
perfected form of knowledge from which everything in 
the shape of individual caprice and of bias or prejudice 
has been eliminated. 

Reaction of Systems of Knowledge on Appre- 
hension. As implied in what was said above on the 



394 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (b) JUDGING AND EEASONING. 

work of thought in developing explicit apprehensions of 
sensible objects (see p. 197 11*.), the formation of clear 
thoughts reacts on the apprehension of concrete things. 
This applies not only to the apprehension of things 
directly by way of the senses, but to that of things 
indirectly through the assimilation of what others tell us. 
This clearer mental grasp of the particular, by the aid 
of general concepts and judgments, is one aspect of what 
is called Apperception. Such reaction of thought on the 
perception of the concrete is illustrated when a person 
versed in fossils recognises that this particular fossil, 
which you have just shown him, is of such a kind and 
has been found in such a stratum. 

When knowledge becomes systematised in the way 
required by Logic, this enlightened grasp of the new 
by help of pre-existing thought-products, becomes a 
complex process. Thus a classical scholar whose mind has 
a well-ordered store of knowledge mentally " places " any 
new Latin work which comes under his notice in 
a system of knowledge. That is to say, he classifies it 
as a work of a particular Latin author, belonging to a 
particular period and a particular school. In so doing 
he assimilates the new to the old. At the same time, 
however, he more or less explicitly apprehends the 
relations of dilierence involved in his classification of 
Latin authors, viz., those between the works of one period 
and other periods, of this particular writer and con- 
temporary Latin authors, and so on. And, lastly, while 
he thus assimilates and differentiates he establishes con- 
nections of time, etc. ; for example, he will know that the 
particular work was written in such and such a condition 
of the empire. This has been called the assimilation of 



APPERCEPTIVE SYSTEMS. 395 

a new fact by way of an Apperceptive System. ^ The 
systematised knowledge of science enables us to grasp, 
assir)iilate, and place our new observations in the 
most methodical and perfect way, 

EDUCATIONAL CONTROL OF THOUGHT. 

Training Children in Methodical Thinking : (a) 
Exercises in Judging about Things. The highest 
aim in intellectual education is to develop readiness and 
precision in carrying out the processes of thought. The 
value of a person's education can be best tested by his 
ability to judge and to reason about things. 

Exercises in judging begin in close connection with 
those in the observation, comparison and classification 
of objects. A child should be encouraged, after observing 
and comparing the size and shape of objects, their 
situations and so forth, to express the results of his 
mental work in suitable and precise language. In this 
way he will be best trained in thinking out into definite 
articulate form the relations of things which his sur- 
roundings present to him.^ 

Another simple exercise of judgment connects itself 
with the use of memory. Children should be questioned 
as to what they have observed in the past, and what 
they have learned from others, so that clear ideas of the 
relations of things may be permanently retained in the 
definite form of propositions. 

In these exercises in clear thought the educator should 
keep his eye on those tendencies which lead children 

^ See G. F. Stout, Analytic Psychology, vol. ii., chap. viii. 
2 See Miss Edgeworth, Practical Education, iii., p. 196. 



396 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (b) JUDGING AND KEASONING. 

to distort the real relations of things under the influence 
of preconception, and especially of the bias introduced 
by feeling, e.g., fear, or a strong wish for something. 
As a great authority, Professor Faraday, tells us : " That 
part of self-education which consists in teaching the 
mind to resist its desires and inclinations, until they are 
proved to be right, is the most important of all ". 

Throughout these exercises a good deal of attention will 
need to be paid by the instructor to a nicely accurate 
use of words. The resort to big, grand-sounding words 
is a common childish tendency closely connected with the 
impulse to exaggerate and to produce a strong eflect. In 
all serious instruction children should be exercised by 
means of a little cross-questioning or otherwise in think- 
ing well about the words they choose, so that they may 
see all that is implied in them, as well as all that is 
contradicted by them. 

Perhaps the hardest problem which arises in training 
the judgment is that of hitting the happy mean between 
demanding too much in the way of submission to 
authority and allowing too much liberty to individual 
opinion. This problem presses more and more on the 
teacher as his pupil grows in intelligence. 

One point is clear here : since we want to develop 
the capability of thinking, that is, thinking for oneself 
and not merely adopting others' thought-products, we 
should in all our instruction as far as possible en- 
courage children to grasp and realise the truth of what 
we tell them by help of their own experience-material 
and their own processes of thought. This rule applies 
obviously to instruction about natural objects which 
children can themselves examine, as well as to the 



EXEECISING A CHILD IN JUDGING. 397 

simpler kind of instruction about the facts of human life 
and conduct. 

It is obvious, however, that with respect to certain 
matters the child's liberty of judging must be curtailed. 
It would not do, for example, to allow him to question 
the facts of history, though it might be exceedingly 
desirable even here to meet the exhibition of a sceptical 
temper of mind not by a mere dogmatic statement, 
" It is ' written,' " but by unfolding something of the hard 
painstaking line of study by which men have satisfied 
themselves about the truth of historical propositions. 
Nor would it be well to permit children with limited ex- 
perience to decide what is possible or wise in the way of 
human action in situations of great complexity ; still less 
to permit them to pronounce on the rightness or wrong- 
ness of such complex actions. To reconcile the claims of 
authority and of individuality in this matter of judging 
requires much wisdom and skill in the trainer of the 
young. Differences of temperament and disposition in 
children require to be taken account of here, e.g., that 
between the sluggish-minded and timid child, wanting in 
self-reliance, and disposed to rely on others to . excess, 
and the quick-witted and over-confident child, rather 
hasty in forming his own opinions. 

As experience widens and intelligence develops, greater 
scope should be given to the child for judging inde- 
pendently about things. He should be carefully led on, 
little by little, to make use of his individual powers in 
thinking and deciding for himself. For example, he may 
be encouraged in certain cases to think out what is suit- 
able and beneficial for himself, and what lines of action 
it is best for him to pursue. And while judgment is 



398 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY : (b) JUDGING AND REASONING. 

thus developing on its practical side it should be allowed 
to exercise itself more freely on the aesthetic side with 
respect to what is beautiful in natural objects, as well as 
in art, including literature, also on the logical or scientific 
side with respect to what is true or probable. A fuller 
exercise of the individual judgment about ethical matters 
belongs to a distinctly later period, and presupposes 
mature experience and reflective power. 

(h) Exercises in Reasoning. The work of training 
the young in careful processes of reasoning is closely 
connected with, and indeed grows out of, the development 
of their power of judgment. In the earliest stage (from 
about the beginning of the fourth year) the mother is 
called on to satisfy the child's curiosity about facts and 
the reasons of facts. This period is an important and in- 
deed a critical one for the subsequent development of the 
child. Parents are apt to think that children habitually 
put questions in a half-mechanical way, without any 
real desire for an explanation, and even for the sake of 
teasing. This view, however, as we shall see later on, 
is far from being accurate.^ It seems a good rule to 
give an explanation wherever the nature of the subject 
allows of a simple and intelligible one. 

In thus answering children's questions the, educator 
must of course be careful not to indulge them in habits 
of intellectual indolence and in a weak dependence on 
others. They should be stimulated to find out for them- 
selves, as far as may be, the reasons of things. " A w^ord 
or two (writes Madame Necker) in order to put him on 
the track, often in order to get him to see that by think- 

1 For illustrations of children's questions see my Studies o/ Child- 
hood (" The Questioning Age "), p. 75 ff. 



EXEECISES IN REASONING. 399 

ing well about the matter he might have been able to 
answer his own query, these words, I say, will be seeds 
which will fructify with time." 

Very different views have been taken of the desirability of answer- 
ing children's questions and of reasoning with them. Locke was for 
encouraging a child's inquisitiveness {Thoughts, § 122) and for offering 
suitable reasons {ibid., § 81). Kousseau, who held that children up to 
the age of twelve are not rational beings, was of course opposed to 
this. George Eliot wisely cautions us against reasoning too much 
with a child. By so doing, she says, " you make him a monster 
without reverence, without affections ". 

The training of the reasoning powers includes, how- 
ever, much more than the answering of the spontaneous 
questionings of children. The little learners must be 
questioned in their turn as to the reasons of things. 
The educational value of a well-chosen question of this 
kind is that it enlarges a child's intellectual horizon, 
suggests a new possibility of knowledge, a new fact or 
explanation of fact, and so stimulates his powers of 
thought. The parent and teacher alike should aim at 
fixing in a child's mind a habit of inquiry by repeatedly 
directing his attention to what is happening around 
him, and encouraging him to fiiid out how these events 
are brought about. Here, of course, great discernment 
needs to be shown in selecting problems which the child's 
previous knowledge will enable him to grapple with. 
This exercise of the young mind in discovering the 
reasons of things involves a training in orderly recol- 
lection; in stimulating him to go back to past experiences 
in search of fruitful analogies, as well as to principles 
already acquired in search of explanations.^ 

^ On the nature of explanation, the reader should consult Jevons, 
Elementary Lessons in Logic, xxxi. Compare Lloyd INIorgan's Psycho- 
logy for Teachers, chap. vi. 



400 THOUGHT-ACTIVITY: (b) JUDGING AND KEASONING. 

The systematic training of the reasoning powers has 
for its chief aim the avoiding of the errors incident to 
the processes of induction and deduction. Children need 
to be warned against " hasty generalisations " respect- 
ing the causes of things, to be led by a more methodical 
comparison of instances and analysis of these to dis- 
tinguish essential conditions from mere accompaniments. 
In like manner the teacher needs from time to time to 
direct the young reasoner in drawing conclusions from 
principles, by leading him to see the limits of a rule, and 
to distinguish the cases that properly fall under it from 
those which do not ; and, further, by familiarising him 
with the dangers that lurk in ambiguous language. 
It is now well known that children are very apt to 
reason by way of word-analogies, as when they sup- 
pose that ** butterflies" must make "butter". These 
tendencies, which are especially strong in imaginative 
children, have carefully to be watched by the teacher. 
In this more systematic training in reasoning some 
knowledge of logical principles will be found indispens- 
able to the teacher. 

Science and Training of the Reasoning Powers. 
It follows from what has been said that there is no 
subject of study dealing in a connected and methodical 
way with a group of facts which may not in the hands of 
an intelligent and efficient teacher be made an instru- 
ment for developing a child's reasoning powers. Thus 
the study of physical geography should be made the 
occasion for exercising the child not only in forming 
clear scientific concepts, but also in reasoning as to the 
causes of natural phenomena. History, again, when 
well taught, may be made to exercise the learner in 



SCIENCE AS MEANS OF TRAINING. 401 

tracing analogies, in discovering the causes and the 
effects of human action, and in bringing particular oc- 
currences under simple principles. It is further one of 
the best fields for exercising older pupils in a careful esti- 
mation of the comparative value of conflicting evidence. 

It is, however, the more highly generalised body 
of knowledge — to which we commonly confine the name 
Science— that supplies the most effective means of sys- 
tematic training. In science we have knowledge carried 
to the highest point of generality and precision. It 
is, further, an orderly arrangement of knowledge in 
a unified system, in which facts and principles are set 
forth in their right relations, and in which the mind is 
carried on in a methodical way from fact to law, and 
from principle to concrete illustration. 

While all sciences, properly so called, are thus fitted to 
train tlie mind in an orderly arrangement of knowledge 
they have different educational uses ; some exhibiting 
more of the inductive process, others more of the deduc- 
tive. The physical sciences (so far as they are not treated 
mathematically) are largely classificatory and inductive. 
That is to say, the reasoning processes involved consist 
in the main of careful observation and analysis of facts, 
experiment and the establishment of laws of connection 
between facts. Such sciences as botany and chemistry 
provide the best training in the patient and accurate 
investigation of facts, in methodical classification, and 
in the building up of general truths on a firm basis 
of actual observation. On the other hand, the mathe- 
matical sciences are almost entirely deductive. Here 
the principles, being simple and self-evident, are stated 
at the outset in the shape of axioms, etc.; and the de- 
27 



402 THOUGHT- ACTIVITY : (b) JUDGING AND EEASONING. 

velopment of the science proceeds by an orderly un- 
folding- of the consequences of these principles, the results 
of each of these deductive processes being made use of 
as starting-points in later processes. The exactness of 
the initial conceptions, such as '' line," " equality," and so 
forth, and the absence of all ambiguity of language, 
render such mathematic deduction the type of exact 
" demonstration " ; and its educational value lies in the 
fact that it trains the learner in making his ideas as 
de Unite as possible, in separating out simple elementary 
truths as starting-points, and in insisting on necessity 
of logical sequence in passing from premise to conclusion. 
jMathematics has commonly been held up as the best in- 
strument for disciplining the mind in exactness and con- 
sistency of thought. 

Order of Instruction. Our psychological examina- 
tion of the way in which a child's mind advances sug- 
gests that in developing a systematic knowledge the 
teacher has to proceed in a certain order. It is now 
coming to be recognised that in the early stages of in- 
tellectual development it is impossible to deal with the 
wliole tieid of knowledge in a systematic way. As has 
been shown, a subject like history has to be taught under 
the lorm of selected concrete " stories " before it can be 
studie<l in a connected way. In like manner the first 
exercises of thought must set out from the concrete, and 
aim at reaching the abstract by way of this. That is 
to say, the teacher has to proceed according to what 
ih-' known as the " inductive method," i.e., leading the 
pupil up from an inspection of examples or instances to 
a comprehension of the general class and of the laws 
which are valid for all members of the class. In this 



ORDER OF INSTRUCTION. 403 

way the teacher moves from particular examples of 
natural substances, of plants and animals, of geometric 
figures, of words presented to the child's senses, and so 
forth, up to the corresponding classes and the universal 
truths relating to their properties and uses. In no cases 
ought principles to be introduced before sovie examples 
are given. Even in teaching arithmetic it is now seen 
that the elementary principles, i.e., the simpler truths of 
number, are best taught by means of a kind of inductive 
process carried out on concrete examples. Not only so, 
even such " self-evident " truths as the axioms of geo- 
metry require, as mathematical teachers are well aw^are, 
a certain amount of concrete illustration. The words of 
Seneca in reference to practical training apply to theoretic 
instruction also : — 

" Longum iter est per praecepta : 
Breve et efficax per exempla ". 

Thus, in every case, the right method of teaching a sub- 
ject proceeds to some extent according to what has been 
called the Order of Discovery, the order to which the 
human race, under the circumstances, was necessarily 
shut up in finding out these truths.^ 

But a little reflection tells us that this reference to 
the natural order of development of the individual's 
mind and of the mind of the race is not sufficient here. 
The teacher, by reason of the fact that he possesses (or 
at least is supposed to possess) the fuller knowledge 
gained by the race, interferes with nature's spontaneous 
order. In his so-called *' inductive teaching " he does 

1 The reader should compare what was said ahove on the parallelism 
between the evolution of the individual and of the race (chap, vi., 
pp. 63, 64). 



404 thought-activity: (b) judging and reasoning. 

not, it is evident, need to go through all the slow 
laborious processes by which the race found its way to 
this knowledge. The teacher is there to put the learner 
on the direct road to knowledge, which otherwise he 
might never hit at all, and he only needs to present 
a sufficient number of concrete examples to enable his 
"pupil to understand and assimilate the principle. 

Nor is this all. As the child's intellectual powers 
develop, and more difficult thinking processes become 
possible, another principle comes more and more into 
operation. The psychological principle, "adapt your 
materials to the growing powers of the child's mind," is 
now supplemented by a logical principle, " so present 
facts and truths as best to set forth clearly and intelli- 
gibly their inherent connections ". In other words, the 
teacher has to take the unified body of knowledge called 
a science and unfold its several parts in a thoroughly 
scientific way, which is also the most economical way for 
grasping the whole. Hence, in teaching such a subject as 
geometry or grammar, he will reduce the preliminary 
analysis to a minimum, carrying the learner's mind on 
as quickly as possible to a grasp of the elementary ideas 
and truths, so as to be able to proceed " synthetically" 
or deductively by following out the consequences of 
these and of their several combinations. 

A like intrusion of the logical principle of an orderly 
and connected presentation of teaching-material shows 
itself with respect to the selection of the different sub- 
jects of the curriculum, and of their chronological 
arrangement. At first this is largely determined by the 
capacities of the learner's mind. That is to say, sub- 
jects are selected, such as the simpler aspects of nature- 



PSYCHOLOGICAL AND LOGICAL ORDER. 405 

lore, the narrative treatment of history and so forth, 
which especially appeal to the powers of observation, 
memory and imagination. As the years advance, and a 
more systematic assimilation of knowledge becomes pos- 
sible, the logical connections between different branches 
of knowledge have more and more to be considered, and 
the pupil taken methodically from those which are 
simplest and most independent to those which are re- 
latively complex and presuppose the former, as is 
illustrated in the order, (1) mathematics, (2) physics, 
(3) chemistry, and (4) biology. 

It is to be added that the introduction of the logical 
principle is the supreme illustration of the educational 
maxim : " From the simple to the complex ". The ele- 
mentary conceptions of geometry, for example, are the 
truly simple part of the science. When, in the earlier 
stages of education, we are considering mainly the state 
of the learner's mind we cannot give full effect to this 
maxim. The concrete objects which are set before our 
eyes are in truth very complex, and only get simplified 
by analysis and classification. , At this stage the teacher 
has to steer his course rather by way of the other 
maxims : " From the known to the unknown," and 
" From the concrete to the abstract ". 

It is apt to be supposed that these maxims are of similar import if 
not interchangeable ; but this is not so. " From the simple to the com- 
plex " is so far a psychological principle in that it bids us in all our 
training, e.g., in observation or imaginative construction, to begin with 
simple presentations and ideas, rather than with complex ones. But 
it is also, and in an important measure, a logical principle. In a 
systematic study of a science the student sets out with conceptions 
which are highly abstract and remote from the familiar facts of his 
everyday surroundings, such as " circle," the fraction " |," " a smooth 
plane," "organ," "government". Yet these same conceptions are 



406 thought-activity: (b.) judging and eeasoning. 

essentially simple in their logical character, inasmuch as the process 
of abstraction is a simplification of the complex facts of our experience. 
The percept of this round plate with its colour, its pattern, its weight, 
etc., is analysed and simplified when we regard it as a circle, and 
similarly with other concrete presentations. The simplicity of these 
elementary notions is further illustrated in the fact that they can be 
applied by way of explanation to a large variety of complex sense- 
presentations.i 

EEFEEENCES FOR READING. 

For a fuller account of the processes of Thought the student may 
consult the following : Sully, The Human Mind, chap, xii, ; W. James, 
Psychology, chap. xxii. ; and J. Ward, article " Psychology " in the 
Encyclopccdia Britannica, p. 77 ff. 

The early developments of ttiese processes are dealt with by Sully, 
Studies of Childhood, chaps, iii. and iv. ; B. Perez, First Three 
Years of Childhood, chap, x., also in his later work, U Ed^ication 
intellectuelle, chaps, vii. and viii. ; and G. Compayre, L'Evolution 
intellectuelle et morale de Venfant, chap. x. 

On training children in the processes of judging and reasoning the 
student may with advantage consult the following : Locke, Conduct of 
the Understanding (edited by Prof. T. Fowler) ; Maria Edgeworth, 
Practical Education, chap, xxiii. ; S. S. Laurie, Institutes of Educa- 
tion, part ii., lectures vii.-x, ; G. Compayre, Psychology applied to 
Education, chap. vi. and following ; E. Rayot, Lemons de Psychologic, 
le(;on xiii. 

On the question of the proper mode of progress in intellectual 
education, the following may be consulted : H. Spencer, Education, 
chap. ii. ; A, Bain, Education as a Science, chaps, vi. and vii. ; W. 
H. Payne, Contributions to the Science of Education, chaps, iv.-vi. 
and ix. ; Felkin's Introduction to HerharVs Education, chap, iii., 
section 2. The reader of German may compare Waitz, Allgem. 
Padagogik, § 22, and the article " Formal-Stufen " in Rein's 
Encyclop. Handbuch cler Padagogik. 

In connection with this part of intellectual training the teacher 
is strongly recommended to study the elements of logic, both deductive 
and inductive, as expounded in Jevons' Elementary Lessons, W. 
Minto's Logic, Deductive and Inductive, or similar text -book. 

^ There are some good criticisms of current explanations of these 
maxims in W. H. Payne's Contributions to the Science of Education, 
iv.-vi. and ix. The reader of German may compare Ziller, Allgem. 
Padagogik, pp. 259, 2G2. 



PAET III. 

THE DEVELOPMENT OF FEELING. 
CHAPTER XVI. 

GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF FEELING. . 

Having now briefly reviewed the growth of intellectual 
activity, we may pass on to trace the second phase of 
mental development, the gradual emergence and growing 
complication of the aiiective function, or of the feeling 
aspect of our mental states (compare above, chap, iv., 
pp. 45, 46). 

Feeling Defined. As we have seen, the term feeling 
marks otF the pleasure-and-pain " tone " or aspect of our 
experience. Such feeling-tone may be immediately con- 
nected with a sensation, for example, that of hunger or a 
sweet odour, or may accompany some higher form of 
mental activity, such as the emotion of admiration or hope. 
While all feeling has the characteristic of being agreeable 
or disagreeable in some degree, there are many feeling- 
tones which are of a mixed character, such as that 
of the sensation induced by scratching an inflamed 
portion of the skin, or of the emotion of grief at the 
loss of a friend. Feeling-tones exhibit all degrees of in- 
tensity, from the quiet current of agreeable satisfaction 



408 GENERAL CHAEACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

which attends the consciousness of doing right, up to the 
violent excitement of a transporting joy. 

As ah^eady suggested, we are wont to speak of those 
mental states which have a marked prepondenmce of 
feeling-tone as " feelings ". In this way we describe 
hunger and thirst, and the emotions of love and grief. 
In so doing we must not forget that the states so de- 
scribed are really complex, having a presentative and 
even a conative, as well as an affective or feeling 
element. 

Although only erected into a leading function of mind 
within the last century, feeling constitutes a w^ell-marked 
phase of the "stream" of our conscious life. Our pleasures 
and pains make up the interesting side of our experience. 
The objects of the external world only acquire a value 
for us in so far as they touch our feelings. Since, more- 
over, the feeling-tone of our experience determines its 
character as happy or the opposite the clear under- 
standing of its conditions forms an important part of the 
science of well-being. 

But feeling is not merely a subject of great import- 
ance in itself : it stands, as we have seen, in close and 
vital connection with the other two sides of mind. On 
the one side, it is essentially involved in the exercise and 
development of the intellect. Although, when it rises 
to the violent intensity of excitement, it opposes itself 
to intellectual activity, it supplies in its more moderate 
degrees the element of vital interest which rouses the 
faculties to strenuous activity. The cidtnre of intelli- 
gence is accordingly at every stage limited by the de- 
velopment of the feelings. On the other hand, the 
cultivation of the intellect reacts upon the growth of all 



CHAKACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 409 

t;he higher and more refined feelings, such as the sense of 
beauty. 

On the other side, feeling stands in intimate connec- 
tion with conscious action and volition. When we are 
strongly affected by pleasure or pain the feeling manifests 
itself directly in the active form of movement. Not only 
so, it is feeling which, as we shall see, contributes the 
dynamic or propulsive element in voluntary action. The 
motives which urge us to do things are products of 
feeling. Thus we say that a man acts from the fear of 
bodily want, the love of family or country, and so forth. 
The habitual directions of a person's conduct follow 
the lead of his dominant feelings (compare above, p. 51). 

Some Effects of Fueling. Every mental state 
which has a strongly marked feeling-tone, whether 
agreeable or disagreeable, show^s a tendency to persist 
and to master all the mental processes. The more violent 
feelings have, when not interfered with, a gradual rise 
and subsidence, the stages of which we can easily trace. 
A child carried away by hilarious excitement or by 
angry passion illustrates this course of gradual rise and 
fall. When the current of feeling is thus allowed to 
attain to its full volume, as in all forms of passionate 
excitement, well-marked effects, both mental and bodily, 
are observable. 

(1) To begin with, great intensity of feeling is apt to 
disturb the normal flow of ideas. This is due to the 
fact that the feeling-element itself becomes a powerful 
suggestive force. A child in a fit of anger is apt to 
imagine this and that injury : the angry condition 
favours the emergence of ideas of injury. Not only so, 
violent feeling of any kind weakens and may even 



410 GENEEAL CHAEACTEEISTICS OF FEELING. 

paralyse for the moment the action of the will in 
selective attention. Hence the inability of children 
when violently excited, as by hope of some great pleas- 
ure, or by dread, to judge and otherwise think clearly. 

(2) Along with these mental disturbances, feeling pro- 
duces important bodily results. The close connection 
between mind and body is nowhere more plainly illus- 
trated than in these physical effects. A sudden joy, an 
access of anger, radiates, so to speak, over the organism, 
bringing about marked changes in the vital processes, 
such as the action of the heart, the respiration, the 
circulation and so forth, and commonly exciting tlie 
voluntary muscles to activity. Among these effects on 
the voluntary muscles must be included the expressive 
onoveTYients by which an emotion, say of joy or grief, is 
manifested to others. These will be spoken of more 
fully in connection with the discussion of the emotions. 

General Conditions of Pleasure and Pain. We 
may now pass to a fuller consideration of each of these 
contrasting feeling-tones, which are commonly spoken of 
as pleasure and pain, but which, when more compre- 
hensively viewed, may be defined as agreeable and dis- 
agreeable consciousness. Each of them has its specific 
conditions, the knowledge of which is of great importance, 
both by way of securing the happiness of the young, and 
of working on their active impulses. 

It is commonly held that pleasure or agreeable con- 
sciousness is brought about by the moderate and suitable 
activity of any organ — including the cerebral organs 
which are engaged in the intellectual processes — the 
action of which affects our consciousness. A moderate 
stimulation of the eye by light, or of the muscular system 



PLEASUBE AND PAIN. 411 

by bodily exercise, as well as a modq^^ate activity of the 
observing or reasoning powers, is distinctly agreeable. 

If, however, the activity passes a certain limit, the 
agreeable effect diminishes and rapidly passes into a dis- 
tinctly disagreeable one. Thus when the light of the 
rising sun exceeds a certain intensity, the eye is fatigued 
or "blinded"; similarly, violent or unduly prolonged 
muscular exercise, or an excessive strain of the mental 
powers, is fatiguing and as such disagreeable. 

The disagreeable side of feeling may, however, be in- 
duced in other ways. The want of an appropriate 
stimulus, when it affects consciousness at all, gives rise 
to a distinctly disagreeable mental state, that of restless- 
ness and craving. Examples of this are to be found in 
the uneasiness of an active boy who is shut in during 
the play -hour and cannot indulge in muscular activity, 
and in the mental condition, known as tedium or ennui, 
which is induced by the absence of wholesome mental 
occupation. Disagreeable feeling is further caused by 
anything which obstructs our activity, as when we try 
to push a door open and find an obstacle in the way- 
To this variety are closely related the pains which come 
by way of injury, whether to our body or to some 
interest which we value, such as our property or our 
reputation. 

It is commonly held that the moderate activity of an 
organ is beneficial to that organ, furthering its future 
efiiciency, whereas excessive activity tends to injure the 
organ and to impair its future efficiency. It is probable, 
further, that impeded functioning is also injurious to the 
organ or organs concerned, and this is certainly true of 
injuries to organs. We may say then thatpam has for 



412 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

its essential condition so'ine lowering of conscious 
functional activity, whether by way of an excessive and 
so exhausting mode of activity, of a defective exercise 
of function, or, lastly, of injury to an organ ; and 
that ^pleasure has for its underlying condition a 
heightening of conscious functional activity by way 
of normal and suitable exercise. 

So far we have spoken of the action of single organs. 
But since the several organs of the body stand in the 
closest connection one with another, the state of any one 
must necessarily react upon that of the others. Thus a 
healthy and vigorous condition of the brain acts benefici- 
ally on the other organs, and vice versa. In this way all 
pleasurable states, when not carried to the point of 
violent and exJtausting excitement, have an exhilarat- 
ing effect on the whole organism, and raise the sense 
of conscious life, whereas painful states have a de- 
pressing and lowering effect on the organis^m as a 
whole, and lower the sense of conscious life. 

Monotony and Change. After setting forth the 
main principle or law of our pleasurable and painful 
experiences, we may pass to one or two subordinate 
principles. 

To begin with, the affective tone of our mental states 
is subject to the law of Change or Contrast already 
referred to (see above, p. 146). Any source of pleasurable 
feeling, if it remain wholly unchanged, tends to lose its 
first effect. For example, bodily exercise is apt to lose, 
after an hour or less, its first delightful accompaniment of 
freshness. On the other hand, change in the mode of 
activity is a known cause of enjoyment. Variatio 
delectat. The transition from the schoolroom to the 



MONOTONY AND VARIETY. 413 

playground, and back again from play to school-work, is, 
or may become, exhilarating. The peculiar delightful- 
ness of all novel experience, such as the first walking tour, 
is only a more striking illustration of the same principle. 

A like result shows itself in the case of prolonged 
pains, provided they are of moderate intensity. We 
suffer less from lasting physical discomforts and from 
worries and troubles when we *' get used " to them. 
What is known by schoolmasters as the " hardening " 
process illustrates this principle. A boy is inured to 
the hard bed, the cold early wash, and so forth, when he 
gets so accustomed to these things as not to mind th^m. 
What we call the deadening of the finer sensibilities 
illustrates the same law. A child's sense of shame is 
frequently dulled by repeated acts of brutality, such as 
humiliatLng words, and holding up to public ridicule.^ 
Such repetition robs the painful sense of hurt of its first 
sharpness. Horror at the sight of brutality, and even the 
dread of death, may similarly be blunted by familiarity. 
As Hamlet says, apropos of the grave-digger who sings 
over his work : " The hand of little employment hath the 
daintier sense ". 

Accommodation to Surroundings. This diminution 
in the intensity of pleasure and of pain, due to prolonged 
action of the cause, evidently implies a change in the 
condition of the organ concerned. There is here an 
adjustment or accommodation of the organism to its 
surroundings. 

A striking example of this process of self-adjustment 
is seen in the fact that a stimulus which at first is 

^ The reason why this effect is not universal will be explained 
presently. 



414 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

distinctly disagreeable may in time become not only 
indifferent but positively pleasurable. This is illustrated 
in the acquired likings of the palate, the fondness for 
alcoholic drinks, bitter condiments, and so on. Another 
illustration is seen in the well-known effects of a persistent 
exercise of an organ. The growth that results from a 
regular periodic exercise of muscle or brain, implies an 
accommodation of the organ to a greater strength of 
stimulus, so that an amount of exercise which was at 
first excessive and painful becomes enjoyable. 

One other effect of the prolongation or the frequent 
renewal of stimulation remains to be touched on. What 
is customary, though it loses tlie first fresh charm, be- 
comes endeared by Habit, so that when deprived of it 
we suffer. It is owing to this principle that a child's 
mind and body get set in certain definite lines of activity. 
He finds a quiet satisfaction in going through the round 
of occupations, such as the meals, the walk, and lessons to 
which he has grown accustomed, and will even resent 
any interruption of the customary order. 

The craving for change and the clinging to what is 
customary are two opposed principles of the affective 
side of our experience. A certain amount of variety 
and novelty is necessary to prolonged enjoyment. Yet 
if the change from the old to the new is abrupt and 
involves a rupture of the habitual there arises the pain- 
ful sense of loss. This principle has, as we shall see 
presently, important bearings on the affective life of 
children. 



CLASSIFICATION OF FEELINGS. 415 

VARIETIES OF AFFECTIVE STATE : CLASSIFICATION OF 
FEELINGS, 

As I have pointed out, mental states with strongly 
marked and preponderant feeling-tone are commonly 
described as " feelings ". We have now to consider the 
concrete varieties of affective experience thus arising 
and the proper mode of classifying these. 

The first and most obvious distinction is that drawn in 
everyday thought between "bodily" feelings, i.e., the 
affective changes concomitant with sensation, such as the 
pleasure and pain aspect of thirst and its satisfaction, 
or of a sweet perfume, and "mental" feelings, i.e., 
the affective phenomena which have as their condition 
some higher mode of conscious activity, such as the 
pleasures of hope, the pains of regret. The first, which 
are often in popular language described as " sensations," 
are properly named Sense-feelings. They are compar- 
atively simple phenomena. The second are best dis- 
tinguished as Emotions, and, as we shall presently see, 
are complex mental states. 

(A) Sense-Feelings. These, again, fall into two 
distinct groups: (a) The first arises out of changing 
functional conditions of the bodily, and more particularly 
the vital, organs, such as the agreeable and disagreeable 
feeling accompanying bodily warmth and chill, or full 
unimpeded and impeded respiration. They are known 
as the Organic sense-feelings. (h) The second group 
arises from the changing activity of the organs of special 
sense and the muscles, such as the agreeable and dis- 
agreeable accompaniments of touching soft and smooth, 
and hard and rough objects. These may be called the 
Feelings of Special Sense. 



416 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

The first group plays a large part in the life of feeling, 
especially in early life. States of physical comfort and 
discomfort form the basis of what we call tone of mind, 
whether as cheerful and lively, or as gloomy and de- 
pressed. 

The pleasures and pains connected with the activity of 
the special senses are of a higher order than those arising 
from bodily changes. In general they have the pleasur- 
able aspect best marked, whereas the lower feelings, 
connected with the bodily processes, are rather of a 
painful than of a pleasurable character. They presup- 
pose as their condition the developed activity of the 
senses, which, as we have seen, includes some power of 
focussing attention on sense-presentations, and on the 
other hand of employing the muscular organs. Hence 
they only become clearly marked after the first months 
of life. The delight in rhythmic movement, in colour, 
in sweet sound, and so forth, though we may see a germ 
of it in animal life, marks the growth of the distinctly 
human functions. 

(B) The Emotions. From the sense-feelings must be 
carefully distinguished those more complex mental states 
which are known as emotions, such as the state of anger, 
fear, love. 

An emotion, as already pointed out, takes its rise in 
some intellectual state, whether the perception of an 
object, say a dangerous enemy or a beautiful plant, or 
on the other hand the idea or mental representation of 
such an object. Hence, although certain emotions com- 
mon to man and some of the lower animals are in a 
sense congenitally determined or '' instinctive," ^ the full 

^ On the use of the words " instinct," " instinctive," in Psychology, 
see above, p. 64, footnote. 



THE NATTJEE OF EMOTION. 417 

development of emotional states involves that of the 
intellectual life. 

If we analyse any emotional state' we find it com- 
posite. Take the case of an angry child who thinks 
that he has been injured. Here the idea of some injury 
done to him is the starting-point and the sustaining 
force. This "sense" of injury has a well-marked painful 
tone, and this gives the dominant character to the whole 
state. The complete emotional state, however, involves 
much more than this. Anger, when fully developed, 
takes possession of the whole body. The vital processes, 
more especially those of respiration and circulation, are 
profoundly modified. Not only so, the voluntary mus- 
cles are called into action, the child shrieks, stamps on 
the floor, and strikes or throws things about. The several 
sensations which accompany these bodily changes stand 
in the closest connection with the painful consciousness 
of being injured, and give to the whole state of anger 
its characteristic complexion. It has been well said that 
the state of fear divested of the escort of sensations 
arising from the accompanying" organic changes, such as 
tremor, chilliness, and disturbed heart-action, would no 
longer be what we mean by " fear ". 

It only remains to add that this discharge of nervous 
force from the brain-centres on to the muscular system 
as well as the vital oro^ans contains a conative element. 
The shrieking and striking of an angry child, the 
shrinking back and running away of a fearsome child, 
are of the nature of instinctive actions, and are readily 
developed into true purposeful acts. 

This slight analysis of an emotional state may suffice 
to show that it is a great disturbing factor in the flow of 
28 



418 GENEEAL CHAEACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

our mental life. When fully developed into a state of 
passionate agitation, emotion tyrannises over the mind 
and body alike. Each passes out of control, it being as 
impossible to keep the body still as to preserve a calm 
condition of the mind. 

Development of Emotion. The same general laws 
of mental development which we have found to hold 
good in the case of the intellectual faculties apply, allow- 
ing for certain differences, to the emotions also. The 
instinctive or congenital tendencies underlying such 
emotions as fear and anger are fixed and deepened by 
repeated exercise or indulgence; or to express it other- 
wise, our emotional states develop in point of deptli 
and complexity as experience advances. Compare, for 
example, the love of home, or of parents, of a child and 
of an adult. Not only so, we may note an order of 
development of the several varieties of emotional state, 
from those which are comparatively simple in their 
composition, involving little mental representation, to 
these which are complex in their nature, implying a 
high degree of representative activity. This may be 
illustrated by comparing an early and largely instinctive 
emotion, such as fear of a bodily hurt, with a late- 
developed emotion, such as the moral sentiment. 
I (1) Congenital Element. Our emotions spring out 
of certain impulses which are instinctive or unacquired, 
being determined by the congenital formation of the 
organs of the nervous system. The child is so con- 
stituted as to react in the particular way indicated 
by the term " anger " or " fear " when the appropriate cir- 
cumstances and experiences, viz.^ the apprehension of 
injury or of danger, present themselves. And this in- 



DEVELOPMENT OF EMOTION. 419 

stinctive rudiment of emotion is not the same in all cases. 
We find that similar circumstances and experiences do 
not call forth the same strength or violence of reaction, 
or produce the same intensity of emotion, in all children 
alike. The sum of these congenital dispositions con- 
stitutes the child's emotional nature or tetnperaynent. 
It is a further question whether the instinctive founda- 
tions of emotion include more specialised tendencies. It 
has been thought by some that when an infant shows 
fear of certain animals, e.g., the dog, this may be the 
result of a kind of inherited association, that is to say, 
the product of the experience of the child's ancestors 
transmitted by heredity. But this view is not adopted 
by all psychologists. 

(2) The Effect of Exercise and Experience. While, 
however, our emotional life has its roots in certain in- 
stinctive reactions, its developed form presupposes a 
certain amount and variety of individual experience. 

The affective side of our experience, its pleasurable 
and painful aspect, is subject to the general law of 
functional activity, that of developmental modification 
by repeated exercise. Just as every new exercise, say, 
of attention, modifies the central nervous organs in some 
way so as to help to fix the disposition to attend and 
to perfect the act, so every indulgence or discharge of an 
emotional reaction tends to fix or strengthen the corre- 
sponding disposition. The child that is allowed to give 
way to outbursts of angry passion tends to become more dis- 
posed to anger, more ready to react on slight provocation. 
Not only so, the action of growing experience tends to 
deepen and complicate the several emotional states. A 
child that has been injured again and again by another 



420 GENEKAL CHAEACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

comes to cherish a deeper and more lasting feeling of 
hatred. Similarly with fear, love and the other emo- 
tions. This implies a cumulative effect, viz., that of 
earlier experiences in modifying and deepening later 
experiences of a like kind ; and this again involves the 
fundamental property of retentiveness. 

Revival and Association of Feeling. One part of 
this deepening and complicating of emotional states 
requires special notice. Our affective experiences are 
capable of being revived. I can recall a fear and 
imagine myself as afraid again, and in certain circum- 
stances this revival is very full and vivid, and approxi- 
mates to the real experience, e.g., when listening to a 
gruesome story. All such revival illustrates the action 
of Association. We only recall a feeling of pleasure or 
of pain by recalling the sense- presentations, of which the 
feeling was an accompaniment. Thus, to take a simple 
case, the pleasurable experience of a plunge into cool 
water is recalled by the sight or vivid imagination of a 
cool stream on a hot day. Similarly, the emotion of 
anger is recalled by seeing the person who has injured 
us, or (less forcibly) by hearing his name mentioned. As 
is well known, locality is a potent reviver of our affective 
states. A child is apt to take a violent repugnance to a 
room where it has undergone some painful experience. 

The reader should compare this with what was said in chapter ix. 
on the effect of feeling in fixing impressions on the mind. When a 
presentation has a marked feeling-tone this serves to fix the attention, 
and so to produce a lasting image ; conversely, the image thus rendered 
distinct and permanent serves as the medium for the revival of the 
feeling. 

Owing to this action of association, feeling may become 



ASSOCIATION OF FEELING. 421 

in a sense transferred to new and originally indifferent 
objects. If an object present itself again and again in 
circumstances which are highly enjoyable or the reverse, 
it may come to yield pleasure or displeasure even 
though we do not recall these circumstances. Thus 
places and persons may affect us agreeably or disagree- 
ably after we have forgotten the incidents which 
gave rise to the association. The growth of emotion 
depends to a considerable extent on the quickness with 
which such associations are formed, and on the perti- 
nacity of these associations. Children of a lively emo- 
tional temperament are quick in investing places, objects, 
and persons with agreeable and disagreeable associations, 
and, as a consequence of this, they easily acquire strong 
likes and dislikes. One wonders what odd association 
led the little girl, afterwards known as George Sand, to 
take an invincible dislike to the letter B among all the 
letters of the alphabet. 

The gradual expansion and complication of our emo- 
tional states are the effect of the associative processes just 
described. Thus the growth of a deep liking or fondness 
for our home, our parents, our favourite books and so 
forth is due to the integration or unification of a number 
of agreeable associations which successively attach them- 
selves to one and the same object. The more numerous 
and varied the agreeable or disagreeable experiences 
which thus combine in these associations, the greater the 
volume of the resulting feeling. Mixed emotional states, 
e.g., that called forth by the sight of a home where a 
number of pleasurable and painful experiences were 
undergone, illustrate the same integration of associative 
elements. 



422 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

The process of emotional development here briefly 
described, tends to counteract the dulling effect of 
Kepetition and Habit already referred to. For example, 
a sensitive boy who is persistently '* teased " by his 
school-fellows may, instead of growing hardened, develop 
a secret and profound feeling of isolation and degradation. 
The same applies to changes extending over longer 
periods. The first delicious enjoyment of flowers, of 
scenery, or of music, though in a sense it passes, gets 
taken up into the quieter love of later years. As George 
Eliot has it, " Our delight in the sunshine on the deep- 
bladed grass to-day, might be no more than the faint 
perception of wearied souls, if it were not for the sun- 
shine and the grass in the far-off years which still live 
in us, and transform our perception into love ". To this 
must be added that the later experiences nearly always 
add new elements to the feeling, giving it greater range 
and complexity. 

The principle of Habit plays, however, a real and im- 
portant part in the growth of emotion. It serves to fix 
it in certain definite channels and to develop permanent 
emotional dispositions. In this way, for example, a 
child gradually develops a lasting tendency to react in 
a particular emotional form, such as self-complacency, 
sympathy, admiration of what is beautiful and noble. 
Such permanent emotional dispositions are sometimes 
spoken of as Affections or Passions. 

The most important result of this fixing of emotional 
reaction in definite lines by Habit is the formation 
of persistent active inclinations. In this way, for 
example, love, from being a mere reaction of tenderness 
and passive sympathy, grows into an active impulse to 



PEEMANENT EMOTIONAL DISPOSITIONS. • 423 

please and further the happiness of the beloved object. 
This formation of permanent active inclinations becomes, 
as we shall see, an important element in the development 
of will and character. 

Order of Development of the Emotions. The 
various emotions, like the intellectual " faculties," appear 
to unfold themselves in the order of increasing com- 
plexity and representativeness (see p. 67 K). For 
example, the emotion of fear, in its simpler forms of 
dread of physical injury, is known to be among the 
earliest. And this emotion is, as we shall see, largely 
an instinctive reaction, presupposing merely a certain 
amount of experience of (physical) pain and the power of 
recalling and representing this. A feeling of affection 
for a person, on the other hand, comes later than this, 
because it involves a greater complexity of experience 
and a higher degree of representative power. 

Without attempting the difficult task of classifying 
the great variety of our emotional states, we may mark 
off three important classes which answer roughly to three 
grades of complexity. (1) The first group may be called 
Instinctive or Animal Emotions. They consist of certain 
emotions, such as Anger and Fear, which have a large 
instinctive factor and appear early in children, as also in 
animals. Since they are closely related to that impulse 
of self-preservation which is strong in the child as in the 
lower animals, they may be called also Self-preservative 
or Egoistic Emotions. Some of these, as, for example. 
Anger and Envy, being distinctly inimical to our fellows, 
are sometimes described as Anti-social feelinp's. 

(2) The second group may be marked off as typical 
Representative Emotions. They include the several 



424 GENEEAL CHARACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

varieties of emotional state which have as a common 
base what we call Sympathy or Fellow-feeling. It is 
evident that when we feel for another's grief we are 
representing his state by help of our own experiences. 
This group is developed distinctly later than the first. 
The emotions here included are sometimes marked off as 
the Social Feelings, and so set in opposition to group (1). 
(3) The third group consists of highly complex and 
representative emotions, which are commonly known as 
Sentiments, such as patriotism, the feeling for nature, 
and for humanity. The more important of them may be 
brought under three heads, the Intellectual Sentiment or 
the love of Truth, the Esthetic Sentiment or admiration 
of the Beautiful, and the Moral Sentiment or reverence 
for Duty. These emotions in their fully developed form 
attach themselves to certain ideas of an abstract kind, 
viz., truth, beauty, moral goodness. Hence they are the 
Human Emotions in a peculiar sense. Even in the case 
of man they only attain to a considerable measure of 
development under the full humanising influences of 
education. 

In glancing at this series we are at once struck by the great and 
profound differences between the earlier and more instinctive and the 
later and more reflective emotions. The gradual development of the 
emotional life by introducing the calmer sentiments serves in itself to 
diminish the violence of the earlier animal emotions. It is to be 
noted, further, that the development of the emotional life is a much 
more complex process than is represented in this scheme. The lower 
emotions get taken up and organised into the more complex wholes 
which we call sentiments. As recently pointed out, in every *' love " 
or " interest " a number of the earlier emotions are involved.^ 
Thus in our love for a person there are fear and its opposite, hope, 

^ See an article by A. F. Shand on "Character and the Emotions" 
in Mind. 1896, p. 218 and following. 



LOWEB AND HIGHER EMOTIONS. 425 

resentment of injury, and a certain form of self-love too (in the love 
of the object as mine). The fact that the earlier turbulent feelings 
may become organised as elements in the later and more refined senti- 
ments is a fact of capital importance in moral education. 

EAELY DEVELOPMENT OP FEELING. 

Characteristics of Children's Feelings. The 
element of feeling has a preponderant place in the 
early stages of the mental life. In the first months, 
when intellect is as yet almost dormant and voluntary 
action has still to be acquired, the affective phase is 
well marked and pronounced. 

This preponderance in early life of pleasure and pain 
is impressed upon us by the direct and energetic character 
of the expressive reactions. A little child expresses both 
misery and joy instinctively, and with as little of restraint 
as of an affected attempt to show feeling. Hence the 
ease with which this side of its mental life may be 
observed. 

A child is endowed at birth with sensibilities to pain 
and to pleasure. For example, it experiences pain when 
cold or hungry, and pleasure when warm, or when ap- 
petite is being sated. 

The fact that the earliest experience of pleasure and 
pain grows out of the changes of the organic life, suggests 
that the painful element is at first the more distinctly 
marked. The frequent shriekings of misery are more 
impressive to a spectator of infancy than the occasional 
smilings. There is little doubt that during the first 
years at least, when tlie physical functions are as yet 
but imperfectly developed, bodily disturbance is the chief 
source of the intenser forms of feeling. 

About the age of three or four months the Special 



426 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

sense-feelings become a distinct and a prominent factor. 
Later on when locomotion is added to arm and hand 
movement, the fuller experience of muscular activity 
becomes all-absorbing. This development of the higher 
sense-feelings tends to bring pleasure up to the level of 
pain. There is reason to think that during the first years 
a child finds a luxurious enjoyment in certain sensations 
of touch, hearing, and sight which is lost in adult life. 
Harriet Martineau tells us of the exquisite delight which 
she experienced when about three years old in passing 
her fingers round a button covered with black velvet on 
the top of a sister's bonnet.^ The same is true of the 
sensations produced by certain colours and tones. 

The development of muscular activity, and, along with 
this, of the exploring or experimental and play im- 
pulses, brings the child under the empire of the laws 
of activity and change. The inexperienced inhabitants 
of the nursery illustrate at once the joyousness of 
full normal activity and the misery of a wearing over- 
activity. They show us, too, no less distinctly, the 
iniperious need of variety, and the suffering which may 
come in the case of one endowed with vigorous im- 
pulses by way of monotony and the closing of channels 
of activity. 

As implied in what has been said above, children very 
early show true emotional reactions : they express the 
germ of anger ("temper"), fear and other instinctive 
emotions certainly within the first year. These first 
emotional outbursts, however, though a step above the 
pains and pleasures of sense, are dependent on sense- 
presentations. Thus, for example, a child can only ex- 
* Household Education, chap. xix. 



CHAEACTEEISTICS OF EAELY FEELINGS. 427 

perience fear when something alarming is before his 
e^^es, he is unable as yet to recall and imagine objects of 
dread. 

This early subjection of feeling to sense-stimuli, viz., 
sensations and sense-perceptions, may help us to under- 
stand other characteristics of children's affective ex- 
perience. To begin with, what strikes us in their 
manifestations of pain and pleasure is the swiftness, tJte 
immediacy of the* reactions. Children are excitable 
in the sense that they are easily moved by external 
presentations to joy and to grief, to laughter and to 
tears. This follows from the instinctive simplicity of 
these effects, and the absence of the controlling inter- 
ference of ideas. The same characteristic has been 
observed in savage races. 

Another prominent characteristic of this early mani- 
festation of feeling is its violence and masterfulness. The 
outbreaks of childish temper are in their stormy violence 
and their complete mastery of the mind unlike anything 
that occurs in later life — at least in the case of those 
who have learnt to govern their passions. This turbu- 
lence of emotion, which produces the most marked effects 
on the mind and body alike, is clearly explained by the 
absence of ideas and of reflection. The bodily discomfort 
is an all-absorbing misery as long as it lasts, because the 
child is unable to bring memory and reflection to his aid, 
so as to discern the limits, and the momentary duration, 
of his suffering. Similarly, the sight of a dog will fill 
the mind of a timid child with an oppressive dread, just 
because he is unable to recall former experiences and to 
comfort himself by reflection. To quote George Eliot 
again, "■ Childhood has no forebodings ; but then it is 



428 GENEEAL CHARACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

soothed by no memories of outlived sorrow ". It may be 
added that the child's want of volitional control excludes 
at this stage the effort to restrain and master the passions. 

With this violence of childish feeling there is corre- 
lated another characteristic, viz., its fugitiveness , The 
passionate child differs from the passionate man in the 
transitoriness of his outbursts. This is their redeeming 
aspect. There is something almost amusing in watching 
the storm of passion suddenly ca'lmed by so small 
a change in the environment, as some new movement 
of " kitty," or of a human playmate. This transitoriness 
of childish grief, again, is only another consequence of 
the subjection of feeling to sense-stimuli : a child ceases to 
grieve because he forgets the cause of his misery, and his 
attention is diverted to new objects of perception and 
lines of agreeable activity. 

The same dependence of childish feeling on the sur- 
roundings of the moment may help us to understand 
another of its characteristics, viz., its changeahleness 
and capriciousness. A child has but few fixed likings 
or antipathies. To-day he is full of caresses for his 
nurse or his toy-animal; to-morrow his mood changes 
round to the other pole, and he heaps abuse on his 
favourite. The annoyance caused at the moment by 
nurse's unwelcome command is not supplemented and 
counterbalanced by a remembrance of her many past 
kindnesses: hence the sudden volte-face. 

Individuality and Feeling. While there are these 
common characteristics in children's feelings there are also 
considerable diversities in the case of different children. 
What we call " temperament " implies certain individual 
peculiarities in the intensity and in the directions of the 



MASTEEFULNESS AND FUGITIVENESS OF FEELING. 429 

life of feeling. We all know the contrast of the happy 
expansive child, responsive to all pleasurable stimulation 
from without, and the " peevish child," quick to be 
hurt rather than gratified, and to retire moodily within 
himself. Then, too, children exhibit marked differences 
in respect of the special directions of their feeling ; as is 
seen in our speaking of them as "timid" or "bold," 
as "loving" or "selfish," and so forth. Such differences, 
after allowing for dissimilarities of surroundings and 
early education, point to congenital differences which 
have their physiological basis in certain obscure difierences 
of nervous organisation. 

EDUCATIONAL CONTEOL OF FEELING. 

Relation of Education to the Feelings. It is now 
recognised by the best thinkers that education is deeply 
concerned with the feelings of children. Both because 
of what they are in themselves, and because of their con- 
nections with the other mental functions, they need to be 
carefully watched and to be acted on beneficially. 

This work of acting beneficially on the feelings of the 
young so as to further their highest development may be 
viewed in difierent ways. From one point of view it 
may be regarded as concerned with the child's own 
happiness. According to this view the special aim of 
the educator would be so to regulate the feelings of the 
young as to render them a source of the purest and most 
varied happiness. 

Since, however, as we have seen, there is so close 
an organic connection between feeling and intellectual 
activity, this educational development of feeling must 
in a sense involve intellectual culture. Just as feelinsr 



430 GENERAL CHAEACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

has to be aroused as a source of interest and a motive 
force in study, so, conversely, the processes of imagination 
and thought must be developed in order that the higher 
level of the emotional life may be reached. This inter- 
action of the affective and the intellectual factor of mind 
is specially manifest in what is known as aesthetic culture, 
that is, the formation of a refined taste. 

While the education of the feelings thus reaches out 
on one side towards intellectual culture it reaches out 
on the other towards the education of the will and char- 
acter. Feeling has to be acted upon in various ways in 
order that the "springs" of conduct may be pure and 
wholesome. This is the ethical aspect of the education 
of the feelings. 

Action of the Educator on the Feelings. When 
we speak of the educator aiding in the development of 
the feelings, we imply that the sensibilities of a child are 
capable of being acted on by his social environment. 
This may not at first sight seem evident. The means 
of stimulating the intellectual powers of a child seem to 
lie ready to the educator's hand. He can set objects 
before the young eye, suggest trains of ideas by means 
of words, and so directly act upon the growing intelli- 
gence. But how is he to work on the feelings of a 
child ? how, for example, to excite a feeling of pity or 
of shame when this seems to be wanting? Common 
observation shows, however, that children's feelings are 
to a considerable extent under the control of those with 
whom they live ; and we have to inquire into the means 
by which this influence is exerted. 

It must, I think, be allowed that this action of educa- 
tion on feeling is largely indirect. We modify the life 



RELATION OF EDUCATOR TO FEELINGS. 431 

of feeling by changing the environment. The intro- 
duction of a suitable companion to a lonely child has had 
profound eifects on his states of feeling. The educator 
himself, as a prominent and powerful personality in the 
child's environment, shares in this influence, and can 
direct it to the best results. Not only so — and this is 
probably the most important influence — education works 
upon the life of feeling by developing those groups of 
ideas which nourish and sustain this life, e.g., ideas about 
man's history, his past achievements, and our indebted- 
ness to these. On the other side, as we shall see later, a 
powerful regulative action on feeling is effected by way 
of moral education, through the training of the young 
will in self-control. A more direct influence comes in 
when the parent or teacher, in presenting objects and 
ideas fitted to call forth feeling, draws the learner's at- 
tention to the noble or pathetic aspect of the presenta- 
tions, and, what is of greater importance, shows a genuine 
personal appreciation of this aspect. In this way the 
impulse of imitative sympathy, so strong in normal 
children, is made use of. 

Need of Studying the Conditions of Feeling. A 
salutary action of the educator on children's feelings pre- 
supposes a careful study of their characteristics and con- 
ditions. It is now commonly recognised that a teacher's 
work is furthered by surrounding it with an atmosphere 
of happiness or, as Jean Paul Richter calls it, cheerful- 
ness.i A child will only do his best when he finds 
pleasure in his work. In order to promote this cheer- 
fulness of mood its conditions have to be carefully 

^ On Jean Paul's distinction between cheerfulness and enjoymenti 
oee LevMia, edited by S. Wood, frag, iii., ii. 



432 GENEEAL CHAEACTEEISTICS OF FEELING. 

studied. The surroundings must be favourable to bodily 
comfort and agreeable to the eye, the work selected must 
be well adapted to the powers of the child, so as to pro- 
vide full occupation of mind without wearisome strain, 
and the teacher's own manner must radiate the bright- 
ness of a good and happy personality. 

It may be well to add that this idea of making learn- 
ing pleasant, which we owe to Locke, does not mean 
that every part of it should at once prove enjoyable to 
the small learner, and that nothing irksome should ever 
be introduced. As we have seen, contrast is a vital 
principle of feeling, and no contrast is more delightful 
than the change from what is relatively unpleasant to 
what is pleasant. It is to be remembered, further, that 
a strenuous and even disagreeable effort is often needed 
in taking up some new subject of study or line of activity 
in order later to enjoy the full sense of mastery, and to 
enter into the fruition of a genuine and lively interest 
in the subject. Lastly, it is evident that without bracing 
exertions of this kind learning can never become all 
that it is capable of becoming as a moral discipline. 

A similar line of remark applies to the use of the 
principle of Change or Variation. We are very apt to 
forget, what an experienced thinker about education 
has told us, that " monotony is the greatest enemy 
a teacher has to deal with ". Yet while the teacher 
has to meet and gratify up to a certain point a child's 
craving for novelty, by varying his way of putting 
a fact, by introducing new illustrations and so forth, he 
must not allow himself to be dominated by this craving. 
Without a certain amount of repetition in the presenta- 
tion of knowledge-material a child's mind will not gain 



WAYS OF ACTING ON CHILD'S FEELINGS. 433 

a strong grip of the elements, and without this strong 
grip the higher enjoyment growing out of a full under- 
standing of the subject is unattainable. 

Another principle which can be made good use of by 
the skilful teacher is that of Association, a principle 
emphasised by Locke, Miss Edgeworth, and others. 
Both the likes and the dislikes of children may be 
profoundly modified by the action of association. 
As Locke has so well shown us, occupations which 
would otherwise seem arduous and even repulsive to a 
child may be made to look inviting when they "insinuate 
themselves into them (the children) as the privilege of 
an age or condition above theirs " ; and, conversely, if you 
make your boy play at top so many hours a day, and 
thus associate the idea of a compulsory task with his 
game, '' you shall see he will quickly be sick of it ".^ 

The action of education on the several emotional states 
is commonly said to have a negative or repressive side, 
and a positive or stimulating side. Although these two 
directions are necessarily carried out together, as parts of 
one process, there will be a convenience in viewing each 
separately. 

(a) The Restrictive Action of Education on the 

Emotions. Our scheme of emotional development at 

once suggests that in the early instinctive feelings 

the educator is confronted with adverse forms which 

must be brought under restraint. Outbursts of angry 

passion, for example, have to be brought under some 

control, partly because of their physical and moral 

injuriousness to the child, partly, as we have seen, 

because they disorganise the intellectual processes and 

1 Thoughts on Education, §§ 76 and 129. 
29 



434 GENEEAL CHAEACTERISTICS OF FEELING. 

SO thwart all efforts to instruct. This subjugation of 
violent passion forms, indeed, one great aim of the 
"education of the feelings". 

The work of subduing the turbulence of feeling in the 
first years of life is in some respects a peculiarly difficult 
one. The very violence of the emotion blinds the mind 
and so renders difficult any attempt of the educator to 
reach and influence the child's mind when under its 
sway. Moreover, the great agency by which, as we shall 
see by-and-by, the torrent of passion is stemmed, namely, 
an effort of will on the child's own part, cannot be relied 
on in the case of the very young. Threats of punishment 
at such a moment of wild excitement may only too easily 
add to the storm, or at best merely divert it into a new 
direction. On the other hand, the changefulness of the 
childish mind is favourable to the diversion of attention 
from the exciting cause of the passion as soon as the 
worst violence has spent itself. 

In addition to this difficult task of grappling with the 
force of passion when it is actually excited, the wise 
educator will aim at weakening the underlying sensi- 
bilities. In the matter of the passions it is emphatically 
true that prevention is better than cure. Where a child 
has a strong disposition to violent outbursts of temper 
it may become necessary to act upon his environment 
protectively, shutting out for a time, so far as possible, 
the worst provocatives of the feeling. In this way, the 
disposition may be weakened by disuse, and so the 
effort of self-restraint made easier. 

I have already touched on the indirect action of the 
educator on the child's states of feeling by way of the 
intellectual processes. This holds good of the problem 



EDUCATIONAL EESTEAINT OF FEELING. 435 

of moderating the passionateness of the early years. 
By developing a child's intellectual activities, by exercis- 
ing him in calm reflection, we are building up new forces 
which may act as a wholesome counterpoise. In this 
way, for example, children's first foolish terrors will be 
undermined, as the weird superstitions of the nursery 
gradually dissolve under the genial influence of a know- 
ledge of nature and her laws. Similarly, the violence of 
childish grief becomes tempered by the development of 
judgment, and the ability to view things in their real 
proportions. 

More difficult problems arise later on when unhealthy 
forms of feeling, e.g,, jealousy, despondency, bitterness, 
and the like, are apt to develop and to secrete themselves 
from others' observation. It is here, perhaps, that the 
need of knowing our children individually shows itself 
as most imperative ; for until this condition is satisfied 
we are not in a position to act restrain ingly upon, and may, 
very possibly, in our ignorance be fostering, the very 
temper that we would, had we known of its existence, 
have resolutely set ourselves to discourage. 

As I have already hinted, education is never merely 
repressive. Even so ugly looking a feeling as anger 
must not be wholly repressed, but rather purified, 
and taken up into the service of some higher sentiment 
or interest, such as love for some person, or for humanity. 
Not only so, we only act successfully in weakening the 
force of one kind of feeling by developing, and so in- 
creasing the force of, som.e other and better feeling. In 
this way, the first virulence of anger and envy gives way 
to the salutary influence of new feelings of tenderness 
and sympathy. 



436 GENEKAL CHAEACTEEISTICS OF FEELING. 

(J)) Stimulative Action of Education on the 
Emotions. It follows from what has just been said that 
w^hat we call the culture of feeling is largely concerned 
with the problem of strengthening and developing 
certain emotional tendencies. This applies in a special 
manner to those which come later in the order of 
development, viz.^ the social feelings and the abstract 
sentiments. The formation of the higher interests, 
intellectual and sesthetic, and the development of the 
social feelings and a sense of duty, are effected by this 
positive action of education. Such stimulative action is, 
of course, limited at first. As Waitz observes, in the 
early stages of development repression is the main 
thing, whereas stimulation becomes more and more 
important as the child develops.^ 

Since, as we have seen, emotions are developed by a 
succession of excitations, the educator has to secure the 
due emotional exercise. There are, as suggested above, 
two principal agencies of which he can avail himself 
here. (1) First of all presentations may be set before 
the young mind which are fitted to excite the particular 
variety of emotion desired. Thus, by bringing before 
a child's mind some instance of suffering, the parent or 
teacher aims at directly evoking a feeling of pity. As 
supplementary to this presentation of suitable objects 
and ideas, the educator may, by inducing the child to 
put forth his activities, set him in the way of acquiring 
new experiences for himself, and so of discovering new 
modes of pleasurable feeling. In this manner an in- 
dolent, unambitious child may be roused to activity by 

' Allgemeine Pddagogik, pp. 146, 147. Waitz is here arguing against 
Rousseau's idea that education can be merely negative. 



FOSTERING THE GROWTH OF FEELINGS. 4d7 

a first taste of the pleasures of success and the delight of 
well-earned commendation. 

(2) In the second place, the stimulative fostering 
action of education works through the control of the 
child's environment. Children tend, through the play 
of an imitative sympathy, to reflect the feelings they see 
habitually expressed by those about them, and more 
particularly those whom they are fond of and to whom 
they look up, such as their parents, teachers, and com- 
panions. The educator has to avail himself of this 
principle and to see that the child is set in a medium 
where good and worthy feelings exhibit themselves. 

The aim of the educator in developing the feelings 
should be to build up strong and permanent attachments 
or " affections " for worthy things, persons, and modes of 
activity. Here the principle of associative cumulation 
dealt with above has an important practical bearing. A 
deep feeling of regard for the home, for the school, for 
the parent, or for the teacher, is highly complex, the 
product of a slow process of growth. In seeking to 
develop such a feeling, the educator must aim at supply- 
ing the requisite excitants, partly by bringing into pro- 
minence as far as possible the love-provoking features, 
partly by surrounding these with fitting accompaniments, 
so as to build up a harmonious group of associations. 

In order to develop any permanent " affection," the 
educator has, on the one hand, to guard against a too 
frequent indulgence of the feeling, and, on the other 
hand, to avoid a frequent wounding of the susceptibility^ 
A boy who is continually being caressed by his mother 
or praised by his teacher is apt to set little store by these 
things. No feeling must be indulged up to the point of 



438 GENEEAL CHABACTEEISTICS OF FEELING. 

satiety, and a little judicious withholding of gratification 
may sometimes give a new intensity to emotion. On 
the other hand, the educator should bear in mind that 
the frequent wounding of any feeling is apt to deaden 
it. A boy who never gets recognition when he feels that 
he deserves it tends to grow indifferent to it ; or, if he 
be unusually sensitive, an even worse result may ensue 
in the shape of a secret feeling of resentment at injustice. 

One general caution with respect to these attempts 
to awaken feeling is of great importance. The 
educator must be on his guard lest he encourage a 
merely outward display and affectation of feeling. The 
very eagerness of the parent or teacher to cultivate good 
feelings, and the wish of children to please their elders, 
are, as Locke points out, favourable to the growth of 
affectation.^ The educator, especially if he or she be 
emotional and eager for sympathetic responses in others, 
may easily err by trying to force childish feeling into 
unnatural channels. It is well, when with children, not 
to show ourselves too expectant of emotional display .^ 
The danger of such affectation shows how much more 
important it is to work indirectly on the causes of feeling 
by developing a child's ideas and activities than to at- 
tempt directly to call forth the expression of feeling. 

Lastly, throughout this cultivation of feeling the 
educator must be careful not to attach an exaggerated 
value to mere feeling. " Sentimentalism," i.e., the over- 

^ Thoughts on Education, § 66. 

2 " Nothing (says Miss Edgeworth) hurts young people more than to 
be watched continually about their feelings, to have their countenances 
scrutinised, and the degrees of their sensibility measured by the survey- 
ing eye of the unmerciful spectator" {Practical Education, chap. x.). 



USE AND ABUSE OF FEELING. 439 

estiraation of sensibility as such, and apart from its 
quality, is not unknown in dealing with young children. 
It is well for parent and teacher alike to remember that 
there are sickly varieties of feeling which it is better for 
a child to be without. Even good feeling, though not 
altogether valueless, is of very defective value so long as 
it remains Tnere feeling. A pity which can shed tears 
over a sad story but never prompts to beneficent action 
is but of little moral account. The worth of the social 
and moral feelings resides in their organic attachment as 
motives to definite lines of conduct. 

EEFERBNCES FOR READING. 

A fuller account of the characteristics of Feeling and of its relation 
to the intellectual life may be obtained by reference to the following : 
H. Hofiding, Outlines of Psychology, vi. , Sully, The Hiiman Mind, 
vol. ii., chaps, xiii. and xiv. ; J. Ward, article " Psychology " in the 
EncyclopcBdia Brifannica, p. 67 ff. ; and G. F. Stout, Analytic 
Psychology, vol. ii., chap. xii. The nature of Emotional processes is 
specially discussed by W. James, Psychology, chap. xxiv. ; and E. B. 
Titchener, Outline of Psychology, chap. ix. 

The early developments of Feeling are described by W. Preyer, 
The Senses and the Will, first part, chap, vi., and second part, chap. 
xiii. ; and B. Perez, The First Three Years of Childhood, chap. v. 
The reader of German may further consult G. F. Pfisterer, Peed. 
Psychologic, §§7, 18, and 34. 

The general aim of the education of the Feelings is treated of by 
the following : G. Compayre, Cours de Pedagogic, premiere partie, 
leQon ix. ; T. Waitz, AUgcmeine Pddagogik, 2er Theil, 2er Abschnitt 
(" Die Gemiithsbildung ") ; F. Dittes, Grundriss der Erziehungs und 
Unterrichtslehre, §§ 60-55. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

In the previous chapter a general account was given of 
the nature and varieties of Feeling. We may now go on 
to consider the several classes there distinguished. Here 
we shall follow the order of development and begin with 
the Egoistic Feelings, briefly discussing a few typical 
varieties, such as fear, anger, love of activity, with which 
the educator is specially concerned. 

(A) EGOISTIC EMOTIONS. 

Fear. One of the earliest feelings to be developed is 
Fear, the more intense degrees of which are marked off 
as Terror. In its first manifestations in infancy it 
appears as a shrinking away from noises, ugly-looking 
objects, such as a black-faced doll, new surroundings and 
strange animals and persons. It is held by Darwin, 
Preyer and others that such fears are instinctive and 
the transmitted results of ancestral experience, but all 
biologists . do not accept this action of heredity. It is 
possible that the disturbing forces of the environment, 
acting on the tender sensibility of the infantile nervous 
organism by way of shock, may after all account for 
these early fears. 

The true fear which comes somewhat later, viz., a 



EMOTION OF FEAR. 441 

shrinking fro'in an anticipated evil, is tne simplest form 
of an " emotion " pure and simple, that is to say, a 
feeling which has for its exciting condition not a 
mere sensation but a higher form of mental activity. 
It is a reaction called forth by the presentation of an 
object which as a known cause of evil gives rise to an 
anticipation of the same, and thus involves a simple act 
of mental representation. It presupposes a previous 
experience of pain in some form, and the formation of an 
association between this experience and its cause or ac- 
companiment. This is illustrated in the proverbial dread 
of the child that has once experienced the pain of a burn 
on approaching too near the lire. 

While some experience seems to be necessary in the 
first place to suggest danger, it is not necessary that a 
child should have had experience of the particular form 
of evil suggested in a given case. When once his mind 
has grown familiar with certain varieties of pain, the 
exercise of imagination may suffice to excite fear in the 
presence of new and unknown .evils. More than this, 
the very fact that the new and unknown proves 
again and again to have harmful qualities may suffice 
to beget the attitude of alarm, e.g., towards a strange 
dog.^ We know how easy it is to excite fear in a 
child's mind by any suggestion of unexperienced evil, 
e.g., being taken to prison — a fact well known to a 
certain class of nursemaids and others.- Such fears of 
unknown evils are, on account of the very indefiniteness 

I am indebted for this suggestion to Professor Lloyd Morgan. 
2 A good illustration of the child's dread of the prison is given by Mr. 
Anstey in his story The Giant's Eobe. For a real child's experience 
of a dread of the unknown, see my Studies of Childhood, p. 493. 



442 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

of the mental representations and the scope for imagina- 
tive activity, among the worst. 

As a form of painful feeling we should expect fear 
to have a depressing effect on the mental and bodily 
activities. The peculiarity of this emotion, at any rate 
in its intenser forms, is its unnerving and disabling 
character. The intellectual processes are arrested, the 
attention is rigidly held by the exciting object, and the 
imagination is apt to be inflamed to a perilous degree. 
Abject terror thus deprives the mind of its wonted power. 
And there is something analogous to this in the physical 
prostration which accompanies the state : — 

" Desponding fear, of feeble fancies full, 
Weak and unmanly, loosens ev'ry power ". 

Children have in general a strong instinctive tendency 
to this emotional reaction. A little experience, more- 
over, enables them to realise their special liability to 
evil through their bodily weakness, their ignorance, and 
their inability to cope with danger, and thus strengthens 
the instinctive disposition. The natural timidity of 
children may be said to be one of nature's ways of pro- 
tecting them against the many dangers which surround 
them. This characteristic is, moreover, intimately con- 
nected with the earliest form of the social impulse, viz., 
to seek the presence and companionship of others as a 
mode of security, and to look to them for protection and 
guidance. 

The educator is concerned with this feeling in different 
ways. First of all, he has to guard children against all 
the more violent paroxysms of terror, and more especially 
to discourage groundless and debasing forms of the emo- 
tion, such as fear of the dark, and superstitious dread of 



EDUCATIONAL CONTROL OF FEAR. 443 

bogies and the like. Here it is of the first importance, 
as Locke reminds us, to avoid all suggestions which may 
give rise to childish fright, and especially to refrain from 
over-indulging children in sensational stories about hob- 
goblins and so forth. The literature supplied to children 
IS often mischievous in exciting terror. Mrs. Burnett 
tells us that the first story which she recollects bore the 
cheerful title, "The Slaughter of the Innocents". 

The educator needs to study the causes of children's 
fear, and to work benignly on the emotion by trying to 
counteract these causes. Children often connect ideas 
of danger with things as the result of accidental associa- 
tions. Miss Edgeworth gives as an instance the dread of 
a child for a drum which he first saw played by a merry- 
andrew in a mask. Such harmful associations should be 
neutralised by the formation of agreeable and comforting 
ones. Children's tendency to fear must be corrected by 
the development of the opposite feeling of courage and 
self-confidence; and this again means that the intelli- 
gence must be developed, so that imaginary causes of fear 
maybe recognised as such; also, that the will be exercised 
in examining what looks alarming, so as to ascertain its 
harmless character. 

While the educator has thus to seek to restrain fear 
and to divest it of its overpowering and debasing 
violence, he has at the same time to preserve and to 
make use of the feeling in its milder forms. When 
children are just outgrowing these infantile terrors they 
are apt to show a foolish recklessness in encountering 
danger. Here it is desirable to cultivate a certain cau"^ 
tiousness and apprehensiveness. And generally the edu- 
cator has to develop fear in connection with other and 



4J.4 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

worthy feelings. Thus, while he may have in certain cases 
to discourage the natural fear of bodily pain, and the dread 
of being laughed at by companions, he will do well to 
encourage the fear of offending parent or teacher, of 
causing pain to another, and of losing others' respect, and, 
generally, of what Plato calls proper objects of fear/ 

As these remarks suggest, the educator needs the 
emotion of fear, when robbed of its passionate vio- 
lence and reduced to a calm far-seeing apprehension of 
evil, as a motive force. Every governor has to work 
to some extent on tlie impulse to shrink from what is 
harmful, and the teacher is no exception. Here, how- 
ever, he must be careful not to excite the emotion in its 
unnerving and prostrating intensity; for by so doing he 
may unlit a child for doing the very things which he 
requires him to do. Where, however, the threatened evil 
is definitely known, and can be calmly looked forward 
to as being contingent on certain actions of our own, fear 
becomes an effective and invaluable force as a motive : 
all sane men are under the empire of the feeling in this 
sense. A child who knows no fear is, strictly speaking, 
uneducable : consequently he must be brought under its 
control. In thus subjecting a child to the rule of fear, 
however, we shall do well to make appeal to the higher 
and worthier forms as soon as may be.'* 

Anger, Antipathy. To the same class of primitive 
and instinctive feelings must be referred the emotion 
of Anger. It resembles fear in the fact that it is a 

* See RepuUie, iv., pp. 420, 429 ; cf. Aristotle's Ethics, chap, vi., 2. 

2 Schmidt remarks that the fear of physical chastisement fills a 
larger and larger place in education as we go down the scale of culture 
to savage races. 



ANGEK AND RESENTMENT. 445 

reaction called forth by an experience of pain. Only 
in this case the pain is actual and not prospective, and 
is viewed as a hurt or injury inflicted by somebody or 
something. Unlike fear, however, anger has a distinctly 
pleasurable ingredient. We speak of the "gratification" 
of the angry passions. The reaction of anger proper, 
or resentment of injury, contrasts with that of fear in 
having a markedly energetic form. A child in an angry 
passion is not prostrated and paralysed, as in the state of 
fear, but is roused to a state of violent muscular action, 
shrieking, wildly gesticulating, stamping, jumping up and 
down, striking, kicking, throwing things about, and even 
destroying them. Baifled anger in the child takes on 
much the same expression as the poet makes it take on 
in the man : — 

" He swells with wrath ; he makes outrageous moan : 
He frets, he fumes, he stares, he stamps the ground ". 

At the same time the violence of the activity and its 
irregular and spasmodic character make it wasteful of 
energy and so baneful. A fit. of angry temper exhausts 
the strength of the child. 

In its simplest form, as seen in the passionate out- 
burst of an infant at the beginning of life, anger is the 
direct outcome of physical pain, and may be described as 
the natural protest of a sentient creature against the dis- 
pensation of suffering. Later on — according to Darwin 
before the end of the fourth month — this primitive mode 
of reaction on the experience of pain becomes differen- 
tiated into the emotion of anger proper. This true feel- 
ing of resentment involves a sense of injury. It is closely 
connected in its origin with the animal impulse of com- 
bat, and probably derives its energetic character from 



446 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

this circumstance. Viewed in this way as a self-defensive 
reaction it may be seen, like fear, to have its root in 
the instinct of self-preservation. The pleasure which 
attends the indulgence of angry passion is probably con- 
nected with the circumstance that the passion rouses to 
the fullest the energies alike of body and of mind, and, 
when unimpeded, constitutes the satisfaction of the most 
powerful of our animal instincts. 

As implied in what has been said children are much 
under the dominion of this primitive passion. They 
resent suffering and vent their resentment in outbreaks 
of impotent childish temper. Not being able as yet to 
distinguish carefully between intentional and uninten- 
tional injury, they are at such times wont to pour out 
the vials of infantile wrath on the unoffending head of 
their doll, or toy-horse, or on any other inanimate object 
which happens to cause them annoyance. 

The anti-social emotion of anger shows itself in a 
variety of forms. Being closely allied in its origin with 
the instinct of combat, it accompanies all the more excit- 
ing varieties of contest. The resentful instinct is apt to 
develop into a conscious impulse to inflict pain, and under 
this form of " malevolence " it frequently associates itself 
with the love of power in its coarser and more brutal 
forms, and constitutes a prime ingredient in the well- 
known boyish type, the " bully ". It shows itself in cer- 
tain forms of childish cruelty both towards animals and 
other children. Although, as I have elsewhere argued, 
much of the so-called cruelty of little children towards 
flies and the like is innocent of the desire to inflict pain 
— being the result of a want of imaginative apprehension 
— there is a genuine love of cruelty in some bigger ones, 



OUTGROWTHS FROM ANGER. 447 

• 

as is illustrated in the " ragging " of schoolboys, which, as 
has been proved, is only persevered in when it is seen to 
torment.^ The same combination of love of power and 
resentment makes its harsh voice heard in the shout of 
contemptuous ridicule. 

When deprived of its sweet satisfaction angry feeling is 
apt to develop into a nascent hatred or antipathy. The 
envious child is quick to conceive such lasting dislike for 
those who enjoy the favours which he himself covets. 
Children may readily acquire, too, a permanent animosity 
or hatred towards those who domineer over them and 
excite their fears. What Shakespeare says of adults is 
true of children : — 

•'In time we hate that which we often fear ". 
Even oft-repeated and persistent thwartings of young 
impulse and taste may suffice to breed a lasting dislike 
of those who wield authority. So slight an injury as 
the presence of something offensive in the appearance of 
a person may suffice to awaken a kind of resentful dislike 
in the breast of a sensitive child. In the case of one 
child, the wearing by a woman of short crisp curls dif- 
ferent from those of other women constituted the offence 
and ground of dislike.^ 

As the anti-social feeling which divides man from 

1 According to Dr. Bain, there is a delight in the spectacle of 
suffering which forms the core of the gratification of the malign 
passion {The Emotions and the Will, chap, ix.), and he applies this idea 
to the elucidation of children's cruelty [Education as a Science, p. 72 ff.). 
Locke, on the other hand, regards cruelty as acquired, and as due to 
bad education (see Thoughts on Education, § 116). Compare the 
full discussion of the question of children's cruelty in my Studies oj 
Childhood, p. 239 ff. 

^ See Uninitiated, by Isabel Fry, 116, 7. 



448 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

• 

man, the emotion of anger, though useful and necessary 
to the individual, makes a heavy demand on the restrain- 
ing forces of the educator. It would clearly be fatal to 
the happiness and the moral development of the child to 
humour its temper, and to allow its outbreaks of angry 
passion to go unchecked. The brute-like violence of 
infantile temper must be assuaged. 

The passionate child must be appealed to on its human 
and reasonable side. At first the provocatives of violent 
outbursts must be avoided ; and, since the educator has 
to occasion a considerable amount of annoyance by 
the restraints of discipline, he should take parti- 
cular pains to prevent the growth of anything like 
vindictive feelings towards himself. To this end he 
should avoid every appearance of irregularity, caprice, 
and unfairness in his mode of government. 

In seeking to tame the forces of angry passion, the 
educator has, as already hinted, to work to a large extent 
indirectly by developing the child's reflective powers. 
As Miss Edgeworfch well says, apropos of the manage- 
ment of children's temper : " You must alter the habits of 
thinking, you must change the view of the object, before 
you can alter the feelings " Thus a cross and querulous 
child should be led to see that much which appears to be 
an intended injury is not really so, that playmates are 
often blind to the harmful results of their actions, 
and that those whom in his haste he is disposed to 
think unkind, more especially his parents and teachers, 
are his true friends. Side by side with this cultivation 
of thouo-htfulness the educator should exercise the feeble 
young will in checking and bringing under the turbulent 
forces of passion. 



USES OF ANGEE. 449 

Here, too, as in the case of other natural and normal 
feelings, the educator must remember that his function 
is not that of extirpating something wholly bad. The 
impulse of anger is a necessary endowment of the human 
being as of the animal, and has its proper and legitimate 
scope. It is no doubt true that society by taking the 
punishment of the more flagrant offences into its own 
hands deprives the individual of the fullest indulgence of 
his vindictive instincts. At the same time it is equally 
plain that it allows him a certain modest field for the 
exercise and manifestation of the retaliative impulse- 
Nor does the government of children relieve its indi- 
vidual subjects of all necessity of self-defence. On the 
contrary, as soon as the school age arrives at any rate 
a boy or a girl is required to feel and to assert his or 
her individual rights and to meet attempts at injury by 
an unmistakable display of self-protective spirit. Any 
tendency to i\ tame submission to bullying, so far from 
being a good thing, is distinctly bad ; and headmasters 
and others would do well to encourage much more than 
they do sensitive and submissive children to protect 
themselves against such suffering by calling in the aid of 
authority. 

Not only so, a smack of resentful feeling is needed to 
give life and vigour to other emotions. No feeling, 
perhaps, is susceptible of such curious transformations 
as this, when it enters as a subordinate element into 
other and worthier ones. In the good-natured laughter 
called forth by comedy, the element of resentment — 
though certainly present, and giving a certain zest to 
the enjoyment — is shorn of much of its ugliness. Again. 
in the indignant revolt of the child-mind against the very 
30 



450 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

idea of cruelty, whether to man or brute, anger is not 
only stript of its unloveliness, but assumes a worthy 
and admirable aspect. By developing a wide sympathy 
with the sufferings of others the educator may help to 
humanise the instincts of resentment, by transforming 
them into a genuinely disinterested sense of justice. 

Love of Activity and Growing Consciousness of 
Power. We now pass to a feeling of a different order, 
viz., the pleasurable emotion which accompanies a full 
putting forth of our energies, and is popularly known as 
the love of activity. It is an egoistic feeling, since it 
helps to maintain and to further the individual and his 
vital interests ; a child that derived no enjoyment from 
realising his powers would be unfitted to maintain him- 
self in the struggle of life. It is, moreover, a feeling 
which the educator has to foster and utilise as a motive, 
rather than to repress. It supplies, indeed, one of the 
well-recognised educational motives. 

As pointed out above, all activity, wdien adapted to the 
powers engaged, is attended with a sense of enjoyment. 
Where there are a vigorous body and brain and an ade- 
quate recuperation of energy by periods of repose, there 
arises a strong disposition to activity, so that the 
slightest opening or stimulus is seized upon and utilised. 
This readiness to put forth energy, which is especially 
observable in young vigorous creatures, has been called 
" spontaneous activity ". Such an active disposition shows 
itself, as we may see in the case of children and young 
animals alike, not only in play-like movement, but in 
the observation and examination of new objects. 

The feeling acquires more of the complexity and the 
dignity of an emotion when the spontaneous activity 



LOVE OF ACTIVITY AND POWER. 451 

meets with a momentary check. This excites a special 
exertion and involves a much more distinct consciousness 
of our poivers. One may observe the germ of this 
feeling in the first half-year, e.g., when a child succeeds 
in reaching a toy which has got away and announces his 
success by a grunt of satisfaction. 

This delightful sense of power is experienced when- 
ever the child succeeds in doing something that it could 
not do, or was not aware of being able to do, before, e.g., 
opening a watch, or standing upright. It is also realised 
in a less intense form, when any action, which was before 
felt to be difficult, becomes sensibly easier. In this way 
it connects itself with the child's comparisons of his 
present with his past self, and the sense of progress. 

The full enjoyment of power derives much of its grati- 
fication from the social surroundings. In the face of 
elders, such as parents and the teacher, a child is con- 
scious rather of its weakness than of its strength. And 
this sense of inferior ability may readily grow into a 
distinctly painful feeling, and attach to itself an element 
of resentment. But children have a way of recouping 
themselves for any humiliation from this source by 
emphasising to the utmost their superiority to other 
children. 

The emotion of power is capable of growing into a 
permanent emotion or aftection, viz., the agreeable con- 
sciousness of ability and of self-sufficiency. This is a 
higher form of the emotion, involving more elaborate 
processes of reflection. In this permanent form it enters 
into what we call Pride or Self-respect. 

The development of the love of activity and the elating 
sense of power is a phase of child-life which requires the 



452 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

educator's careful watching. Children are, as Locke ob- 
serves, greedy of dominion. This impulse leads them to 
enlarge the sphere of their action to the invasion of 
others' proper spheres, in order to prove their superiority 
to others in bodily strength, or in material possessions. 
Hence, it is evident, the natural play of the emotion has 
to be restricted within certain limits. When thus re- 
strained, however, it becomes a most valuable incentive 
to exertion. A right ambition to get on, to grow in 
strength, knowledge, and skill, is the prime source of 
youtliful efibrt. 

In order to enjoy the sense of power, a child must, it 
is evident, have a certain liberty of action. The suffer- 
ing of restraint arises from the consciousness of fettered 
energy. A child only does his best at anything when he 
has a consciousness of self -activity. To throw an appear- 
ance of spontaneity into school- work is, as Locke saw, 
the most certain means of rousing the young energies to 
their full tension. The kindergarten undoubtedly owes 
much of its popularity among children to the circum- 
stance that restraint is kept in the background, and 
activity made as play-like as possible. 

During the period of school instruction there might 
seem at tirst to be hardly any scope for the application 
of this principle. The very conception of teaching 
as a mode of external control, demanding a con- 
centration of attention in a certain direction, ex- 
cludes the full delight of spontaneous activity. Not 
only so, a teacher has to assist the faculties of the child, 
and so keeps him in mind of his intellectual weakness. 
Yet after allowing for all this it remains true that all 
efficient instruction proceeds by developing and satisfy- 



DEVELOPING FEELING OF POWEE. 453 

ing the love of activity. The old humiliating regime, 
which met with a sneer any spontaneous effort of the 
child's mind to think, is slowly giving way at last to a 
wiser as well as a more humane regime, in which such 
efforts are not only allowed but encouraged as essential 
elements in a true process of learnino-. 

Not only so; as was suggested above, a teacher by 
raising learning to the rank of a dignified pursuit may 
excite the ambition of his pupil to attain to this dignity. 
Children never have so keen a sense of growing power 
as when they are trusted with some new and important 
task. Even the least inviting kind of work has been 
known to grow not only palatable but actually desirable 
to the young mind when it is thus invested with the 
semblance of responsibility and dignity. That real boy 
of fiction, Tom Sawyer, made the other boys of his 
village, just starting for a holiday excursion, eager to 
relieve him of the task of whitewashing the fence by 
pointing out that a body does not "get a chance of 
whitewashing a fence every day ". 

Finally, children should be led, so far as they are able, 
to realise the advantages which progress in the path of 
knowledge brings with it. The increased ability to 
converse with older folk which comes from the growth 
of intelligence is itself no small gain to a child, and 
he should be encouraged to enter into the fruition of this 
gain. 

Feeling of Rivalry. Closely related to the feeling 
of activity is the emotion of Rivalry. This, too, springs 
out of a consciousness of activity. It is the characteristic 
emotional state which accompanies the putting forth of 
exertion in competition with another. It supplies the 



454 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

familiar form of excitement which enters into all contest 
This condition of excitement is partly the result of the 
strenuous activity which the stimulus of competition 
evokes. But its chief ingredient is the delight in com- 
bat as such, and this delight owes much to the anticipa- 
tion and realisation of the gratification of the feeling of 
Power. Children love contest because they rejoice in 
■proving their superiority to others. 

The feeling of rivalry begins to manifest itself as soon 
as the consciousness of power and the ambition to do 
things develop. - It has its roots in the instinctive love 
of combat, as we may see in the play as w^ell as in the 
more serious contests of children and young animals. 
Children, especially boys about the age of eight and on- 
wards, come much under the sway of this feeling. Asso- 
ciation with other children of about the same age gives 
ample opening for the excitement of contest. And many 
a child who if left to himself would be comparatively 
inactive is roused to strenuous exertion by this stimulus. 

The feeling manifests itself in a variety of forms. In 
some of these its anti-social character or tendency is 
hardly observable, whereas in other forms this becomes 
clearly marked. Much of children's activity has in it a 
subordinate element of competition, even though no 
thought of outstripping and vanquishing another and no 
distinct feeling of antagonism may be developed. This re- 
mark applies to many things which they do under the 
stimulus of example, as in trying to do what they see 
their elder brothers and sisters do. The impulse here is 
largely one of imitation and of personal ambition, with 
that of rivalry thrown into the background. 

The emotion becomes more clearly differentiated, and 



RIVALRY, 455 

shows its anti-social character better, in situations of con- 
test, properly so called, where superiority to another is 
directly aimed at. In the case of bodily combat or fighting 
** in earnest " the feeling of rivalry is at its maximum in- 
tensity, being sustained and inflamed by angry passion. 
In calmer contests of physical strength or skill, e.g., in 
athletic sports, where the blood is not heated, the hostile 
element of anger is kept subordinate. At the same time 
the presence of the feeling in a repressed form is seen in 
the fact that even here triumph over competitors is very 
apt to develop the exulting consciousness of superiority, 
while on the other hand the sting of defeat is apt to 
develop a germ of hatred towards the successful rival. 
It is, indeed, this strong tendency in the emotion of 
rivalry to pass into the full state of hostility that gives 
its dignity and merit to " friendly rivalry," that is, a com- 
petition in which "good form " or the rule of the game 
compels the aspirants to repress as far as possible the 
element of animosity. 

The educational treatment of this feeling is a matter 
of peculiar difficulty. It is so strong an incentive to 
mental as well as to bodily exertion, and is so directly 
fostered by the very constitution of the school, with its 
classes of children near one another in age or in ability, 
its examinations, prizes and so forth, that the teacher 
would scout the idea of dispensing with it as a motive. 
Nor need he seek to do so. The impulse is one of the 
most deeply implanted and the most necessary. It has 
in the past been the spring of a large part of human 
activity, and will continue to be so — at least as long as 
existing social arrangements last. The teacher is accord- 
ingly justified in appealing to it within certain limits. 



456 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

Nevertheless, as a feeling with a distinctly anti-social 
tendency, rivalry requires the educator's careful watch- 
ing. This applies with special force to the school, 
where the teaching of numbers together offers a wider 
scope for the action of competition — e.g., for prizes and 
the many little privileges of the " favourite " — and the 
competitors are not so closely bound by ties of friendly 
intimacy. 

Rivalry is a feeling which will be kept in the back- 
ground in the best types of education. Children should 
be encouraged to aim at excellence rather for the sake of 
the attainment itself than for that of taking down 
another. As Rousseau and others have pointed out, a 
teacher can further this result by his mode of apportion- 
ing praise, grounding his estimate on a comparison 
between what the pupil has been and what he is, and 
not between what he is and what somebody else is. In 
addition to this, the educator should seek to counteract 
the tendency to unkindly rivalry by developing the 
higher social feelings. By so doing, however, he must 
be prepared to find that he is sapping the impulse of 
rivalry of much of its native vigour. What is some- 
times called generous emulation, and set above rivalry, 
is a feeling which derives its life-blood less from the 
impulse of combat than from the desire for excellence as 
such. 



The evil effects of an excessive reliance on the motive of rivalry are 
seen in the educational system of the Jesuits. See Quick, Educational 
Beformers, chap, iv., § 17. Cowper, in his poem " Tirocinium," 
satirises the system of public school competition, and says that emula- 
tion is a compound " of envy, hatred, jealousy and pride ". This is no 
but hits a real defect. Our public schoolf 



USE AND ABUSE OF RIVALRY. 457 

have always made much more of the rougher virtues of manliness, 
which the spirit of rivalry undoubtedly fosters, than the more refined 
virtues of gefttle courtesy and kindliness. 

Love of Approbation and Self-Esteem. We pass 
now to another and very different type of emotion. In 
what is known as the Love of Approbation we seem to 
have to do with a feeling of high moral rank, needing to 
be stimulated rather than, like those just considered, to 
be repressed. 

The love of approbation is a specialised form oi the 
more general sentiment, sensitiveness to others' notice 
and opinion. One manifestation of this sensitiveness 
shows itself early in life (in the second or third year) in 
the reaction known as shyness or bashfulness — which, 
though related to fear, is not to be confused with this — a 
reaction which is called forth by the presence and notice 
of a stranger.^ In its later and more highly developed 
form love of approbation implies the pleasurable feeling 
of gratification which arises from the commendation and 
good opinion of another, and the correlative feeling of 
dissatisfaction and humiliation which comes from un- 
favourable opinion. The germ of this appreciation of 
others' favourable notice is seen in the first years, as, for 
example, in the child's simple action of going to the 
mother to show her something that he has done, and to 
obtain her look and words of commendation. 

This feeling clearly has its roots in egoistic tendencies^ 
It forms an element in a child's first rudimentary "self- 

^ An interesting account of the development of the feeling of bash- 
fulness is given by Professor Mark Baldwin in his volume Mental 
Development, p. 147 ff. As Tolstoi remarks (Childhood, Boyhood, 
Youth, chap, xxi.), the sufferings of shy people arise from their 
uncertainty as to others' opinions of them. 



458 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

feeling," that is, regard for self. A child seeks others' 
favourable opinion and praise because this gmtifies and 
sustains what we call self-satisfaction. 

The disposition to look to others for commendation is 
peculiarly appropriate to childhood. Just as the child is 
physically dependent on others, so he is intellectually 
and morally dependent. In early life children cannot 
form independent judgments as to the worth of their 
actions. Hence they turn to others for the gratification 
of the self-feeling and accept their estimates. As Locke 
has it, " reputation " is the proper guide and encourage- 
ment of children till they grow able to judge for them- 
selves. 

Although the desire for others' approval has, as we 
have seen, a distinctly egoistic side, it has a social 
side as well. For in wishing to stand well with others, 
and especially his elders, a child is paying these a 
certain respect. Moreover, the working of this impulse 
to seek commendation from others necessarily involves a 
certain amount of attention to those of his actions and 
traits which respectively please and offend them. In this 
way the habit of looking for others' praise becomes a 
stepping-stone to a much higher attainment, the desire 
to please, that is, give pleasure to others. 

This double aspect of the feeling reflects itself in the 
unequal dignity of its several forms. An indiscriminate 
greed of others' consideration and praise, without any 
reference to the value of the praise, is one of the most 
disagreeable, as also one of the most harmful, of childish 
traits. It is apt when indulged to lead to silly forms of 
vanity, e.g., that of good looks, and readily gives rise to 
other unlovely dispositions, such as envy of those who win 



LOVE OF APPROBATION. 459 

more praise than the child himself, and overbearingness 
towards those who are less fortunate. In its later and 
more developed form — thirst for popularity and glory — it 
is no doubt a mighty stimulus to effort, yet it enfeebles the 
character by inducing a habit of estimating things wholly 
by a reference to others' opinions and standards of value. 

On the other hand, a discriminating love of others' 
good opinion, a strong sense of the value of the approval 
of certain persons, is bracing and elevating. Where the 
desire for others' esteem is directed by affection and 
respect, it becomes one of the most valuable of educa- 
tional forces. As Locke saw, it may be made, in the 
scheme of home education which he had in his mind, to 
be a very effective substitute for the rivalry of the school. 

In appealing to this motive the educator should temper 
and restrain the feeling, and keep it from becoming a 
foolish craving for the mere forms of praise, or a wild 
passion for admiration and popularity. He should, further, 
enlighten it by pointing out that the verbal forms 
current in the courtesies of life are not always sincere, 
that some things, e.g., good looks, though agreeable 
and fit objects of complacency, are not entitled to 
commendation, and lastly that the only opinion worth 
having is that of a wisely discriminating and perfectly 
candid friend. He should be careful too, in apportioning 
his praise, to avoid wounding the feeling. Not to have 
one's effort and merit recognised, where such are supposed 
to exist, is one of the greatest of childish sufferings, and 
has in it the smart of injustice. 

Finally, the teacher should remember that the end of 
education is self-reliance and independence. While it is 
well for a child of six to go by what others say, it is not 



460 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

well for a youth of sixteen to take the measure of his own 
worth altogether from others. By sifting good opinions 
and distinguishing whose are most valuable, a child 
should be gradually forming a standard, by a reference 
to which he will himself be able to judge of the worth of 
his actions. As the school life nears its close, the habit 
of looking for the teacher's approval should give place to 
the higher habit of independent self-scrutiny and self- 
judgment. 

To know just when and how to slacken the leading 
strings here, and to encourage a child to form his own 
opinion, requires much judgment in the teacher. If 
most children, perhaps, are apt as they grow to lean to a 
weak extent on others' estimate of them, a few display 
an obstinate self-conceit in defiance of others' opinion. 
A child that has been indulged in forming exaggerated 
estimates of his importance under the baneful influence 
of parental " bringing out " is apt to bring something of 
this cheerful self-satisfaction with him to the school ; in 
which case a taste of strongly unfavourable opinions may 
be exceedingly wholesome for him. 

Miss Edgeworth, in her excellent chapter on Vanity, Pride, and 
Ambition, uses the term " vanity " for excessive dependence on others' 
good opinion, "pride" for the higher forms of self-complacency 
(Practical Education, chap. xi.). Vanity implies, no doubt, a desire to 
display, to w^in others' admiration, but it connotes more than this 
viz., excessive and foolish self-admiration on such slight grounds as 
personal appearance. Pride, on the other hand, while, as Miss Edge- 
worth says, it shows more self-reliance and independence of others 
opinion, implies further an intelligent self-esteem, grounded on the 
perception of really valuable qualities.^ 

1 See article. Vanity, Pride, and Self-esteem, in the Cyclopedia of 
Education (Sonnenschein), and the article, " Eitelkeit," in Schmid'a 
Padagog. Handhuch, and in Rein's Encyclop. Handhiich der Pdda- 
iogkg . 



VALUE OF SELF-ESTEEM. 461 

(B) SOCIAL EMOTIONS. 

Attachment to Others : Love. We may now pass 
to the group of emotions known as the Social Feelings. 
These include a variety of emotional states, the common 
characteristic of which is that, whilst like anger and dis- 
like they have others as their object, they prompt their 
subject to seek the society of others and to find pleasure 
in this, and thus serve to bind man to man in bonds of 
friendship. 

The feeling of attachment to another shows itself at a. 
very early age, and appears to be in a sense instinctive. 
Children, like young animals, show themselves companion- 
able, putting forth signs of distress when separated from 
the mother (or nurse), and exhibiting the clinging impulse 
towards her. Even the sound of the familiar maternal 
voice seems to comfort an infant in the solitude of the 
dark night. According to Professor Baldwin, the interest 
in personality is so keen that even in the second month 
a child will distinguish the mother's or nurse's touch in 
the dark.i 

This feeling of attachment has, it is clear, an egoistic 
root : it is an expression of dependence, and is connected, 
as we have seen, with the impulse to seek protection. 
It is, moreover, largely a reflection of the various phy- 
sical satisfactions and comforts which the child associates 
with its protector. 

Such infantile attachment develops into an emotion of 
" fondness " when the cumulative action of experience 
invests the idea of the mother with a mass of grateful 
associations (compare above, p. 421), and when the re- 
action of tenderness, i.e., the impulse to caress or fondle, 
1 Mental Development, p, 335. 



462 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

is developed. A higher kind of fondness or tender 
" love " conies with growing intelligence and the recog- 
nition of personal qualities in the beloved object. 
Respect for another's superior knowledge and character 
may in itself be a comparatively cold sentiment, but when 
it combines with attachment and the impulse of tender- 
ness it gives rise to the warmer feeling of admiring love. 

Such an emotion, even when admiration is added, does 
not constitute all that is meant by love. When we say 
that a boy loves his mother we imply that he is interested 
in her welfare, that he wishes her well, and himself tries 
to further her comfort and happiness. To this higher 
element we may now turn. 

Sympathy. The most important ingredient in the 
social feelings is sympathy. This word, as its ety- 
mology suggests (aw, with, and iraOo^, feeling), means 
fellow-feeling, i.e., a participation in the sorrows and 
joys of others. It is this element which transforms a 
merely egoistic fondness for a source of benefit, and a 
mere delight in what it is agreeable to have near us, into 
affectionate concern and self-denjang devotion. Sym- 
pathy is, however, not limited by the range of tender 
emotion. We can sympathise with the woes of those for 
whom we have no liking, and even with those of perfect 
strangers. In this wider and more detached form sym- 
pathy is synonymous with good feeling, kindness and 
humanity. 

Sympathy, in the commoner form of participation in 
another's suffering, commonly involves a certain amount 
of pain to the sympathiser. In order to sympathise 
with another's distress we must imaginatively realise it, 
and so in a sense take it upon ourselves. Even when we 



PROCESS OF SYMPATHY. 463 

enter into another's joy, and so realise a happy state of 
feeling, a painful ingredient is apt to appear in the shape 
of envy. This fact was perhaps in the mind of Jean 
Paul Richter when he wrote : " In order to feel with 
another's pain it is enough to be a man; to feel with 
another's pleasure it is needful to be an angel". Yet 
sympathy, when accompanied by a flow of tender pity, may 
become in a measure pleasurable. Mr. Herbert Spencer 
somewhere speaks of the " luxury of pity ". Children 
appear to like to show pity to animals and small things 
generally, if not to their elders also, when these are in 
trouble. Perhaps this is why they often prefer the " sad" 
stories which make them weep — though I think that 
very sensitive children who are most sympathetic and so 
feel the pain the most are wont to dislike them. 

It is important to distinguish the pleasure of sym- 
pathising from that of being sympathised with. A child 
by receiving another's pitying words and caresses has 
his pains assuaged. Hence the desire for sympathy may 
exist in a selfish mind which is quite incapable of re- 
quiting it. In children the longing for sympathy is 
commonly quite disproportionate to the readiness to 
bestow it on others. 

An important result of receiving another's sympathy 
is the strengthening and fixing of our feelings. Thus, 
a child that feels itself aggrieved may have the sense of 
injury intensified by the injudicious sympathising words 
of another. Our habitual feelings, our likings, tastes, 
antipathies, are greatly reinforced by the sympathy of 
congenial minds. On the other hand, the drawings of 
sympathy act as a powerful assimilative force. This 
principle is an important agent in what is called the 



464 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

" force of example ". Children tend to adopt the feel- 
ings, convictions, and so forth, of those whom they love 
and admire. 

Stages in the Development of Sympathy. In its 
earliest form sympathy is hardly distinguishable from 
the instinct of companionship. An infant whose grief is 
solaced by the cooings of the mother may be supposed to 
have a vague consciousness of another's fellow-feeling, 
an indistinct sense of " oneness ". A clearer appearance 
of sympathy occurs when a child tends to take on imita- 
tively the manifestations of another's feeling. This 
occurs frequently in the second half of the first year, the 
child laughing in response to another's laugh, crying on 
hearing another child cry, and so forth. Such external 
and imitative sympathy is strong in children, being at 
the bottom of their contagious excitement, and of much 
of what is known as " the sympathy of numbers ". 

In its higher and fully developed form sympathy in- 
volves an intellectual process, viz., a distinct appre- 
hension or imaginative realisation of another's sorrow 
or joy, and the direction of the responsive feeling towards 
it. This emerges gradually out of the former. It first 
appears distinctly in the form of infantile pity. The 
child in its caresses of its pet animal, when hurt, or 
of its mother's " bad finger," displays the germ of such 
true fellow-feeling. This feeling prompts to an effort to 
solace, and, where it is seen to be possible, to remove the 
trouble. The disposition to enter into others' pleasurable 
states of mind is much less distinctly marked in the child. 

In normal circumstances, and under the influence of 
education, the range of sympathy gradually widens. 
At first it is restricted to familiar home companions, 



DEVELOPMENT OF SYMPATHY. 465 

human and animal. Lifctle by little, as the sphere of 
observation widens and oral instruction is added, it begins 
to embrace those lying outside the familiar home scene. 
The transition to the larger community of the school 
opens up new directions of personal sympathy and gives 
opportunity for taking part in the collective sentiments 
of numbers. Methodical culture enlarges the area of 
sympathy by widening the intellectual horizon, intro- 
ducing the idea of a far-ranging human brotherhood, and 
of universal human interests, in which each of us can 
have his share. 

This later development of sympathy in connection 
with the processes of culture involves the subordination 
of sympathy as feeling to the intellectual process of 
understanding. Fellow-feeling with another and com- 
prehension of another's feelings and motives are to some 
extent distinct processes, and illustrate the affective and 
moral aspect of sympathy on one side and the intellectual 
aspect on the other. In this more intellectual process of 
understanding, the emotional excitement of sympathy is 
brought under control. In trying to understand the 
patriotic feelings and aims of Brutus I must not allow 
myself to be carried away by a passionate fellow-feeling. 
Similarly, in trying to enter into the ideas and aims of a 
poet, say Wordsworth, we must in a sense make them our 
own, and we shall do so the better if we can be touched 
with something of the poet's own fervent admiration ; 
yet in order to understand we must make such sympa- 
thetic resonance strictly subordinate to the formation of 
a clear intellectual representation of " the poet's mind ". 

The Education of Sympathy. Sympathy is rightly 
looked on as one of the most valuable agencies in educa- 
31 



466 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

tion. It is needed as an aid to intellectual develop- 
ment, and still more as a means of moral growth. The 
influence of the teacher on the development alike of the 
intelligence and of the character depends on his estab- 
lishing a relation of sympathetic friendship between him- 
self and his pupil. 

In aiming at bringing his pupil into this relation of 
mutual sympathy, the educator must not begin by ex- 
pecting too much from the side of the child. Our 
analysis of the process of sympathy tells us that in its 
higher forms it presupposes conditions which are not 
realised in the first years of life. A child is apt to be 
lacking in experience, in the close observation of the signs 
of others' feelings, and in the imaginative self -projection 
into new and strange situations and experiences, which 
underlie all the higher human sympathy. 

It follows, then, that the teacher, in trying to develop a 
sympathetic rapport between himself and his pupil, must 
himself take the lead. He can enter into the child's familiar 
and simple experiences, though he cannot as yet expect the 
child to understand his unfamiliar and complex feelings. 
This calling forth of affection by showing affection is apt 
to be a slow process, for children have not the intelligence 
needed to appreciate what is being done for them, and 
are disposed to think rather of the present restraints 
imposed by the teacher than of any resulting benefit of 
his instruction in the future. As Miss Edge worth re- 
marks : " Gratitude is one of the most certain, but one of 
the latest, rewards which preceptors and parents should 
expect from their pupils ". 

No doubt, the teacher has fewer opportunities than the 
parent for winning a warm affection from children. 



SYMPATHY BETWEEN TEACHER AND PUPIL. 467 

Still, much more may be done than is often supposed. 
The child has his hardships at school. Study is not 
always a delight, especially at the outset. Here is the 
teacher's opportunity for bringing to bear the magical 
power of sympathy on the work of intellectual instruc- 
tion. These overtures should be followed up by offers 
of companionship outside the class, in the playground 
and elsewhere. 

If in these and other ways a teacher has done his best 
to prove himself the child's friend he may hope in time 
to win a responsive sympathy and a habit of considera- 
tion from the learner. The securing of this sympathy on 
the part of the child is of the first consequence to success 
in teaching. The wish to please one who is an object of 
affection as well as esteem is one of the most valuable 
spurs to intellectual industry. A child that has real 
affection for his teacher will, as we have seen, come 
under the magnetic influence of that teacher's person- 
ality so as to respond harmoniously to his wishes, his 
enthusiasms, his tastes. And this disposition to catch the 
teacher's spirit has been known to work marvels in the 
way of powerfully attracting boys and girls to subjects 
which would otherwise have been unattractive. 

Hardly inferior to this influence on intellectual activity 
of a close sympathy between teacher and learner is that 
of a sympathy among the learners themselves. A child 
brought into a class which exhibits a lively interest in 
the subject of instruction will tend by the mere force 
of emotional contagion to take on something of the pre- 
vailing feeling. Bright, eager class-mates are a potent 
stimulus to the individual child. This is one important 
ingredient in the influence of numbers in education. 



468 EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL EMOTIONAL STATES. 

Where the relation between the learners grows closer, 
and a bond of friendship arises, a new force is 
supplied which may work in the direction of intellec- 
tual industry. Many a young intelligence has bright- 
ened under the genial influence of a daily sympathetic 
contact with a more active and capable mind. 

While sympathy is thus valuable as an aid to intel- 
lectual training, it forms a necessary ingredient in moral 
training. As we shall see presently, a readiness to con- 
sider others is a vital element in a good or moral char- 
acter, and a large part of the problem of developing 
virtuous dispositions consists in knowing how to cultivate 
a habit of sympathy. 

In educating the sympathies special care is called for. 
The educator should guard against the formation of a 
habit of indulging forms of sympathetic feeling which 
do not impel to work for the relief of suffering. Hence 
the feelings of pity should not be wholly or chiefly called 
forth at first by touching stories, but rather by the pre- 
sentation of actual instances of suffering which offer some 
scope for benevolent exertion. 

The school, though it offers a certain field for the 
encouragement of sympathy with actual distress, works 
on the higher sympathies mainly by the presentment 
of human experiences which are inaccessible to any 
beneficent action. Here the object aimed at should, 
as has been said above, be a clear understanding and just 
appreciation of the ideas, feelings and aims, both of the 
individuals and of the communities dealt with. In the 
study of literature, for example, the instructor should 
seek to make the subject an instrument for the education 
of the sympathies by focussing attention on the person- 



EDUCATIONAL USES OF SYMPATHY. 469 

ality of the writer, his life and experiences, and his 
special ideas and aims as expressed in his writings. 
Similarly in teaching history, while the learner's anti- 
social feelings may have now and again to be appealed 
to and gratified, the educator's great aim should be to 
develop a large appreciative sympathy with the many- 
sided life of a nation, his own, and others differing widely 
from this. In this way, through the workings of sym- 
pathy, the great human interests will gradually be 
entered into. 

KEFERENCES FOR READING. 

For a fuller psychological account of the Egoistic and Social Feel- 
ings, the student may refer to the following : Sully, The Human Mind, 
vol. ii., chap. xv. ; and H. Hoffding, Outlines of Psychology, vi., C. 

On the early development of these feelings in children, see B. Perez, 
First Three Years of Childhood, chap. v. ; Sully, Studies of Childhood, 
vi. and vii. ; G. Compayre, Intellectual and Moral Development of the 
Child, chap. v. With these may be read the article, " A Study of 
Children's Fears," by G. Stanley Hall, in The American Journal of 
Psychology, vol. viii., p. 147 &. 

On the educational management of these feelings, consult A. Bain, 
Education as a Science, chap, iii., and H. Marion, Le(,ons dePsycho- 
logie, lemons 15 and 16. 

The subject of angry passion is specially dealt with by Maria Edge- 
worth, Practical Education, chap. vi. ; by Locke, Thoughts, § 111 and 
following ; also in the articles, " Leidenschaftlichkeit " and " Sebst- 
beherrschung," in Schmid's Pddagog. Handbuch. The educational use 
and abuse of rivalry are discussed by G. Compayre, Cours cle Peda- 
gogic, pt. ii., chap. xi. ; also in the article, " Wetteifer," in Schmid's 
Pddagog. Handbuch. 

The love of approbation (" Reputation ") is dealt with by Locke, op, 
cit., § 56 ff. The cultivation of the Sympathies is dealt with by 
Miss Edgeworth, op. cit., chap. x. ; Madame Necker, L' Education Pro- 
gressive, livre v., chap. iv. ; J. P. Richter, Levana, translated by Susan 
Wood (Sonnenschein), sixth fragment, chap. iii. ; also in the article, 
" Mitgefiihl," in Schmid's Pddagog. Handbuch, and in the work of 
F. Dittes, Grundriss uer Erzichungs und Unterrichtslehre, §§ 66-68. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

ABSTRACT SENTIMENTS. 

In the present chapter we shall be concerned with the 
third order of emotional states, which I have marked oil 
as the Abstract Sentiments. The full development of 
these belongs to the period of adolescence and maturity ; 
but the germs appear in early life, and it is an important 
part of the work of education to develop and strengthen 
them. 

(A) THE INTELLECTUAL SENTIMENT. 

The first of these sentiments is one with which the 
educator is specially concerned in connection with the 
processes of intellectual culture. It is commonly marked 
off' as Intellectual Feeling or as Logical Feeling. It may 
be appropriately distinguished as the Intellectual Senti- 
ment. Strictly speaking the name stands for a group of 
closely related emotional states which are developed in 
connection with the intellectual processes. They are 
frequently described as the " pleasures of knowledge,' 
and when developed into the permanent form of an 
affection they constitute the " love of truth ". Under the 
aspect of active or action-prompting feeling this senti. 
ment answers to what we call intellectual interest and 
curiosity (compare above, p. 147 fi'.). 



INTELLECTUAL SENTIMENT. 471 

Feeling of Wonder. It is commonly said that a feel- 
ing for the value of knowledge, as well as the desire for it, 
begins with a feeling of wonder when we are confronted 
with something new and not readily assimilated. This 
may not be strictly true, since we should enjoy something 
of the pleasures of knowledge, even if the assimilative 
process were never arrested and baffled. It is indisput- 
able, however, that wonder is the starting-point in all 
the keener processes of intellectual quest, and contributes 
an important element to the intenser enjoyment which 
accompanies these. 

Now wonder at what is new, and especially at what 
transcends the common level of experience, is apt, in 
children and adults alike, to become an intoxicating 
pleasure, what we call the delight in the marvellous. 
Such an emotional excitement, so far from being an in- 
tellectual feeling, may easily oppose itself to the pursuit 
of knowledge. We all know how the superstitious mind 
which clings to its marvels resents any attempt to explain 
them by help of natural causes. ' 

When, however, the passion for the marvellous is 
brought under control, the very strangeness of the mar- 
vellous appearance is fitted to call forth the inquiring 
attitude, to prompt, for example, the questions: "What 
is a rainbow ? " " How did it get there ? " Children's 
questions are, in many cases at least, the outcome of a 
feeling of wonder. 

The mere feeling of wonder in presence of the un- 
known may take on a distinctly painful character when 
the inquiring attitude is baffled. A child that wants to 
know something, say, where he was before he was born, 
and cannot get a satisfactory answer feels what we call 



472 ABSTEACT SENTIMENTS. 

perplexity. This mental state implies an effort to under- 
stand and a baffling of this effort. Closely related to 
this is the form of self-feeling which we call ignorance. 
Children may suffer much from a depressing conscious- 
ness of their want of knowledge, more especially, perhaps, 
when they listen to older people's talk and try to make 
out what it is all about. 

Pleasure of Gaining Knowledge. The attainment 
of knowledge would bring a negative pleasure by the 
removal of a painful sense of ignorance and of perplexity; 
and this grateful feeling of intellectual relief does un- 
doubtedly enter into a large part of the agreeable exten- 
sion of the range of our ideas. At the same time the 
enjoyment of study receives its chief nutriment from 
certain positive pleasures, viz., the agreeable feelings 
which accompany the successful pursuit of knowledge. 

As was pointed out above, all intellectual activity, pro- 
vided it is not carried to the point of fatigue, has its well- 
marked pleasure-tone. The several forms of intellectual 
activity, moreover, have their characteristic feeling- 
accompaniments. Thus there is a gratification in con- 
trasting objects, and in detecting the finer shades of 
difference among things, a gratification which is an 
ingredient in the pleasures of criticism, and of witty 
conversation. On the other hand, the bringing together 
under some aspect of similarity of two things which 
have hitherto lain remote one from another, rele- 
gated to widely dissimilar categories, contributes a still 
more vivid form of gratification. The mind exj^eriences 
a delightful exhilaration and a new sense of power in 
thus linking together ideas which look foreign one to 
the other. Scientific comparison and classification, and 



PLEASUEES OF INTELLECTUAL PURSUIT. 473 

poetic simile give us this pleasurable excitement. Chil- 
dren show us how they enjoy this bringing together of 
apparently unlike things in the fanciful analogies which 
they themselves trace in things, as in calling the eye-lid 
an " eye curtain," and so forth. 

The full enjoyment of intellectual activity is known 
in those more extended processes which enter into a 
busy searching for some needed knowledge. A com- 
paratively passive reception of a new piece of knowledge, 
from the lips, say, of a parent or a teacher, even when 
something of the pains of ignorance has preceded, yields 
far less delight than the active discovery of it by the child's 
own mind. In this latter case the full activity of the mind 
is awakened, consciousness is intensified by the rapid 
passage of trains of ideas, and there is the glow of in- 
tellectual excitement. In addition to this there is an 
enjoyment analogous to that of the hunter, that of in- 
tellectual pursuit. In this active quest of knowledge 
a certain amount of difficulty and delay is helpful, 
partly by spurring the intellect to livelier exertions, 
partly by adding the augmentative effect of contrast and 
relief. As success is neared there is added the joyous 
feeling of triumph over difficulties. 

Finally, as pointed out above, the progressive mastery 
of ideas is accompanied by a pleasurable consciousness of 
expansion and growing power. The learner feels his 
mind enlarged and strengthened by his new acquisition. 
His self-confidence rises as he feels more abreast of the 
.world. Not only so, where the new knowledge is fully 
assimilated it gives the mind a firmer hold on previous 
acquisitions. This applies pre-eminently to the mastery 
of general conceptions and truths which, as we have 



474 ABSTRACT SENTIMENTS. 

seen, may throw an important light on a multitude of 
facts only dimly understood before. 

Growth of Intellectual Feelings : Children's 
Curiosity. The delight accompanying the pursuit and 
assimilation of knowledge, which we have just analysed, 
is the result of a long process of growth. A child 
shows, as we shall see presently, the germ of a love of 
new ideas and of truth. Yet, owing to the want of 
experience and a fund ot ideas for assimilating new 
knowledge, he is liable to suffer from the pangs of igno- 
rance rather than to enter into the fuller processes of 
enjoyment just described. 

As already implied, the situation of children among their 
new surroundings renders them highly susceptible to the 
effects of wonder and curiosity. Professor Preyer says he 
noted the first distinct manifestation of astonishment in 
his child (on his father's re-entering a railway carriage 
after an interval of absence) in the twenty-second week. 
As the child grows, and experience begins to set up a sort 
of standard of the customary, this wonder at the new 
and strange takes on more of an intellectual or inquiring 
character. Lastly, when language comes to be understood 
and others' wider experience and riper thought begin to 
be brought before the child's mind, the development of 
this wondering inquiry is greatly accelerated. 

In much of this childish eagerness to get knowledge 
about his new world there is something impressive, some- 
thing which might well put to shame the majority of 
adults. Children's inquiries are often refreshing from 
the fact that they have not yet grown indifferent to the 
many problems which surround us, and that they are 
not restrained by our conventional limitations. To this 



children's curiosity. 475 

may be added that in their case the narrowing influence 
of life, with its special and dominant interests, has not 
yet confined the spirit of inquiry within a narrow circle 
of ideas. 

Much of this early curiosity is no doubt fitful and 
fugitive enough. The feeling of ignorance is not fully 
excited, and the desire to know is not sustained by a 
sufficient fund of previous knowledge about the par- 
ticular subject. Hence the further experience of parents 
that the young inquirer has often forgotten his question 
before the answer is given, wandering off" to fresh fields 
of inquiry.^ 

A real feeling of inquisitiveness sufficient to sustain a 
prolonged act of attention must be supported by some 
special fund of interest, which again involves the 
beginnings at least of those groupings of ideas by help 
of which the mind '' apperceives " the new. These pre- 
ferential lines of intellectual interest develop themselves 
gradually, in the case of the individual as of the race, 
out of practical and personal interests, and are aided by 
simple aesthetic preferences, e.g.y for flowers or shells 
(compare above, p. 148 fF.). 

As the fund of knowledge about this and that order of 
facts begins to grow fuller, the spirit of inquiry becomes 
more intelligent. The questioning grows more perti- 
nent, and the supply of new knowledge is seen to bring 
Pu more genuine intellectual satisfaction. The same en- 
largement of groups of ideas enables the child to follow 

1 Compare above what was said about children's questionings (p. 399). 
It is interesting to note that savages are apt to grow tired of examin- 
ing new things, exclaiming, " What is it after all ? " See Lubbock's 
Origin of Civilisation, p. 516. 



476 ABSTRACT SENTIMENTS. 

out processes of thought, and so to realise something of 
the student's delight in the successful search after truth. 
It is to be noted that the growth of the intellectual 
feelings includes both the deepening of a special interest 
in this and that particular subject, and, further, the 
widening of intellectual interests so as to embrace a 
larger range of subjects. These two directions of develop- 
mr.nt are in a measure distinct and even opposed. Absorp- 
tion in special lines of study has often proved fatal to a 
large spirit of inquiry. 

The Cultivation of the Intellectual Feelings. 
In seeking to develop the intellectual feelings and in- 
terests the educator has, as elsewhere, to follow in its 
main features the order of nature. It is vain, for ex- 
ample, to look at first for a keen and absorbing interest 
in any portion of the field of knowledge. The young 
are, as we have seen, unable to realise all the pleasure of 
intellectual activity, and they cannot at first fully appre- 
ciate its practical utility. Hence adventitious aids may 
now and again have to be resorted to. Here the principle 
of association can be made use of, and the liking for in- 
tellectual pursuits encouraged by making all its accom- 
paniments as agreeable as possible. As pointed out above, 
much may be done too by way of sympathy, by showing 
ourselves to be deeply interested in the facts and ideas 
we present, and so arousing a responsive feeling in the 
child. 

While, however, these are important subordinate aids 
to the developing of the intellectual feelings, they ought 
not to be relied on exclusively. The true business of the 
instructor is, after all, so to select and arrange his know- 
ledge-material as to bring it into an interesting relation 



CULTIVATION OF INTELLECTUAL FEELINGS. 477 

with his pupils' minds. In order to do this efficiently he 
must, it is evident, know something about the common 
characteristics of children's curiosity, and of those funds 
of ideas which serve as the basis of intellectual interest. 
He needs further to know the differences of experience 
and of preferential interest among his pupils. 

Starting with this knowledge, his aim will be to con- 
solidate interest by attaching it to detinite and stable 
groups of ideas. In this way, for example, he will seek 
to concentrate his pupils' interest on the facts of the 
natural world, on the history of their country and so forth, 
so as to give a permanent set of curiosity in the direction 
of further knowledge respecting these subjects. In thus 
aiming at the development of special lines of interest, 
however, he should be on his guard lest his work end in 
narrowness of interest. The child's far-ranging curiosity 
is a thing to be respected, and we are but poor teachers 
if we do not aim at preserving and deepening in the 
minds of our pupils a feeling of the intrinsic value of all 
kinds of knowledge, and the desire to acquire illumina- 
tive ideas respecting all parts of the great dark region of 
the unknown.^ 

(B) THE ESTHETIC SENTIMENT. 

The second of the three sentiments which in their 
fully developed form connect themselves with an ab- 
stract idea is known as the Esthetic Emotion. It is 
frequently spoken of as a Feeling for the Beautiful, and 
also as Taste. It is a name which specially marks off 

On the formation of consolidated interests about concentration 
centres, and the awakening of many-sided interests, see Felkin's Intro- 
duction to Herbarfs Scie7ice and Practice of Education, chap. iii. 



478 ABSTEACT SENTIMENTS. 

one large domain of our emotional experience, viz., that 
group of pleasurable states which arises from the con- 
templation and enjoyment of beauty in its widest sense, 
whether in natural objects or works of art. To these 
agreeable emotional states there correspond the disagree- 
able ones which are excited by what is ugly and con- 
flicts with good taste. 

Characteristics of ^Esthetic Pleasure. Keeping 
in the main to the pleasurable side of these experiences, 
we may note that in every case they come to us by way 
of presentations of the two higher senses, Sight and 
Hearing. The pleasure, if truly aesthetic, is immediately 
connected with the perception of some agreeable feature 
or quality in the object, such as the brilliance of a colour, 
or the lovely curves of a statue. 

The aesthetic enjoyments rank high among our plea- 
sures. They contrast with the lower pleasures of sense 
and appetite in their refinement and purity. They are, 
like play, a surplus, so to speak, over the daily satisfactions 
w^hich come to us in connection with the necessary work 
of life. 

Another characteristic of these aesthetic enjoyments is 
that they are eminently social gratifications. Numbers of 
people may together enjoy a beautiful picture or a piece 
of music, and the pleasure of each be greatly increased 
by interchanges of sympathy. The essentially social 
character of aesthetic admiration is seen in the fact that 
a child will call the mother's attention to what is pretty 
and gives it pleasure. 

The aesthetic emotion is a highly complex state made up 
of a number of sense-elements and imaginative processes, 
toecether with the discernment of certain relations of fit- 



THE ^ESTHETIC SENTIMENT. 479 

ness and harmony among these, all of which have a 
markedly pleasurable feeling-tone. A word or two may 
be said about these several ingredients. 

(1) To begin with, then, the sensations of the two 
higher senses contribute pleasurable material to aesthetic 
perception. Those colours, form-elements, and tones have 
aesthetic value which supply the most perfect and so the 
most agreeable stimulation of the sense-organ concerned. 
The pleasure of bright colour, or of a voice with a rich 
timbre, illustrates this sensuous element. (2) Esthetic 
gratification proper is something more than agreeable 
sensation : it implies an act of perception,^ and more 
particularly an apprehension of certain pleasing relations 
among various parts of this sensuous material, and of a 
variety of pleasing details so arranged as to compose a 
whole which itself is pleasing. Thus aesthetic perception 
appreciates the relations of contrast and harmony among 
colours in a fine painting, apprehending them as parts of 
an agreeable colour-scheme. In like manner it discerns 
and appreciates those relations among elements of. form 
which we call symmetry, proportion and so forth, as also 
the relations of time-elements, rhythm and measure, 
which enter into music and poetry. (3) While aesthetic 
emotion thus takes its rise in sense-presentations and 
their relations, it is always enriched to some extent 
from representative or imaginative sources. Much of 
the charm of natural things, such as the sweet modesty 
of a wayside flower, the gladsome movement of a 
stream, and the pathetic aspect of a ruin, depends on 
an imaginative process, and the fine arts, more especi- 

1 The word sesthetic (from Greek aiadrjais) primarily refers to 
a sense-perception. 



480 ABSTEACT SENTIMENTS. 

ally literature, make ample use of the pleasures of 
imagination. 1 

In the case of art-enjoyment one relation is of very 
peculiar value, viz., that of truth of artistic representa- 
tion to nature. The imitative arts, more particularly 
painting, dramatic spectacle, and poetry, aim at present- 
ing some phase of nature or of human life by the medium 
of artistic semblance, and the resulting enjoyment arises 
in part from a recognition of its verisimilitude. Here 
aesthetic pleasure connects itself with the properly in- 
tellectual gratification of apprehending truth. 

Esthetic Judgment : Taste. In describing our 
aesthetic experience we speak almost indifferently of 
perceiving or oi feeling the beauty of an object. This 
use of language suggests how closely the emotional state 
is here connected with an intellectual process. The use 
of the word " appreciate " points still more clearly to 
the fact of this double side of our assthetic experience. 

The appreciation of beauty in things develops by cer- 
tain stages, (a) The first kind of appreciation is largely 
emotional, and so subjective or individual. A child will 
say that a colour is pretty or " nice," merely because it 
pleases him. Here individual feeling is the sole ground 
of the qualification of the object. (b) A second and 
higher stage is reached when a child begins to recognise 
sources of comivion aesthetic enjoyment in objects, and calls 
a thing " pretty "or " beautiful " because he recognises 
in it an objective value, i.e., a value for others as well as 
for himself. This is a true aesthetic judgment, (c) A still 
higher stage is reached when analysis and comparison 

- The reader should compare this with what was said above (p. 
279 £.) in describing the process of imagination. 



ESTHETIC JUDGMENTS. 481 

have detected the qualities and aspects of objects which 
render them objects of agreeable contemplation. Here 
we have a reasoned or rational judgment which can 
take the form : " This thing is beautiful (i.e., objectively 
for all alike) because it presents such and such aspects 
and relations ". 

Standard of Taste. The sphere of taste is pro- 
verbially uncertain. Individuals and communities differ 
widely in their assthetic preferences, and their aesthetic 
appreciations are as a result apt to be limited and sub- 
jective. A wider study of what different men have pro- 
nounced beautiful, and analytical reflection on this, lead us 
to recognise certain universal laws of taste which, hold good 
for all normal men. Such principles supply a standard 
of taste by help of which the individual may regulate his 
appreciations, and reach rational aesthetic judgments. 

By help of this standard we are able to distinguish 
first of all between right and wrong, normal and ab- 
normal, taste. Taste is wrong or unsound when it 
implies a considerable deviation from the normal type of 
human sensibility, and so sins against a law of taste. The 
preference for distinctly bad combinations of colour, e.g., 
scarlet and rose red, is aesthetically wrong : so on the 
other hand is a liking, real or affected, for dingy colours, 
coupled with a dislike of bright ones. 

From this normal rightness or soundness of taste we 
may distinguish refinement or discriminative delicacy. 
A child's taste for colours and sounds may be normal, 
and so in a sense " right," yet represent only a very 
'' low stage " of aesthetic culture. What is called " good " 
in contradistinction to " bad " taste appears to include 
both normal soundness and refinement. 
32 



482 ABSTEACT SENTIMENTS. 

Growth of ^Esthetic Faculty. The feeling for 
beauty in its higher and more refined form is a lafce 
attainment for the individual as for the race, presup- 
posing as it does an advanced stage of intellectual and 
emotional culture. At the beginning of life we have 
the stage of subjective appreciation, in which there is no 
clear separation of what is objectively beautiful from 
what is simply pleasing to the individual. As in the 
history of the race, so in that of the individual, the 
appreciative discernment of beauty slowly emerges out 
of an unretlective sense of the agreeable, and while thus 
rising above a mere sense of enjoyable impressions it 
becomes slowly differentiated from a sense of what is 
personally useful. 

With respect to the qualities in things which first 
awaken pleasurable sense-impressions, bright colours and 
sweet sounds, when not too loud, are among the first. 
Preyer says that his boy seemed pleasurably excited at 
the sight of a rose-red curtain at the early age of 
twenty-three days. In the case of another child a fond- 
ness for a gilded and coloured card was clearly displayed 
at the age of seven weeks. The effect of bright colour 
is increased when the object is moving, since movement 
introduces change of stimulation, and so is more ex- 
citing. Musical sounds, when not disconcerting by reason 
of their strength, may give pleasure to an infant as early 
as on the twenty-ninth day.^ The rhythmic sequence of 
sounds gives pleasure certainly in the second half of the 
first year, calling forth corresponding movements. 

This feeling for orderly sequence in sounds is pro- 
bably the first dim manifestation of an aesthetic perception 
^ See Miss Shinn, The Development of a Child, ii., p. 115. 



GROWTH OF ESTHETIC FEELING. 483 

of relations. It is a long way from this to the per- 
ception of tone-relations or "tune". The appreciation 
of colour-relations, and of the space-relations of sym- 
metry and proportion, appears later also, involving, as 
it does, the ability to compare. Speaking generally, 
one may say that in this early contemplation of objects 
children are wont to concentrate their attention on some 
impressive detail, and are unable to see the aesthetic 
whole as such. This applies more particularly to com- 
plex groups of objects, e.g., natural scenes, which children 
cannot appreciate in their aesthetic ensemble. 

Lastly, it may be observed that the appreciation of 
the suggestions and the ideal significance of things is 
only possible when experiences have multiplied and the 
representative powers have grown in strength. The 
child does not feel the pathos of the ruined castle or the 
sublimity of the mountain peak, because experience and 
thought have not yet invested these objects with their 
rich suggestiveness for the imagination. 

Development of taste means the growth of a more re- 
fined feeling for the sensuous material, as well as of the 
intellectual activities carried out on this. Thus as a child's 
colour-sensibility develops he appreciates and enjoys less 
striking and obtrusive efiects of colour. Similarly as his 
powers of observation and analysis develop he begins to 
discern the more subtle and complex relations of colour, 
form, and rhythm. In like manner as his experience and 
knowledge increase, and his emotional life gains in 
depth and complexity, the aesthetically valuable sugges- 
tions of things grow in richness. A flower, for example, 
will acquire a deeper charm as the mind comes to under- 
stand its delicate structure and its short, fragile life, 



484 ABSTEACT SENTIMENTS. 

when it takes its place in our representation of happy 
country life, and when under the guidance of the poet 
we learn its higher, spiritual signiticance. 

With this development of taste on the passive or 
appreciative side, is closely connected the development of 
the active impulse of the artist. This impulse has a triple 
root in the love of activity, of imitating and producing 
semblances of things, and of bodying forth pleasing or 
interesting ideas. It is among the oldest known char- 
acteristics of our race, and becomes active very early in 
the life of the individual. Children when only a year old 
will show a germ of something akin to artistic activity. 
Thus they will enter into the spirit of a little make- 
believe play or dramatic performance, and will fashion 
or arrange things with their tiny hands, as if to form a 
pleasing product. The whole of children's play, indeed, 
is closely related to art-production. As their powers of 
execution and their tastes progress, they derive a greater 
enjoyment from this plastic activity, and are able to 
judge better of the sesthetic value of its products. The 
active production of what is symmetrical, pretty, and 
so forth, is well known to react powerfully on the ap- 
preciation of art products generally. 

As implied in what was said above, a child's judgment 
in matters of taste gradually acquires clearness and pre- 
cision under the influence of experience and education. 
His first crude attempt to form an objective standard 
(i.e., something beyond his subjective likings) is commonly 
a mere imitation of what is said by others, more particu- 
larly his mother. That is to say, the sesthetic judgment, 
like other forms of judgment, is at first a reflection 
of the external authority under which the child 



HIGHER DEVELOPMENTS OF TASTE. 485 

lives. Thus he hears certain colours, tunes and so forth 
called " pretty " and imitates what is said. As, however, 
taste develops and judgment strengthens he shows a 
tendency to form independent opinions, to assert his own 
view against that of others, and so to give clearer 
expression to his individuality. Children differ greatly 
in respect of this capability of developing individual 
aesthetic appreciations. 

The Education of Taste. As already pointed out, 
the education of the feelings may be said to culminate in 
the development of taste. Esthetic culture owes its 
educational importance to the fact that by refining the 
feelings, detaching them from personal concerns and 
connecting them with objects of common or universal 
appreciation, it greatly widens and elevates the child's 
sources of happiness. 

The development of taste implies, in the case of average 
children at least, the existence of favourable external 
conditions, including w^hat may be called an sesthetic 
atmosphere in the home, and the educative action, of the 
cultivated taste of older persons. 

To begin with, since the aesthetic faculty, like the 
other faculties, grows by exercise on suitable material, it 
is important to surround the child from the first with 
what is pretty, attractive and tasteful, so as to set up a 
standard of good taste.^ In developing the taste, as also 
the other faculties, we should remember that it is first 
impressions which produce the deepest and most lasting 

1 See the celebrated passage in Plato's Bejmblic (iii., C and D) 
on the salutary influence of beautiful art on the minds of the youth, 
insensibly drawing them from earliest years into likeness and sympathy 
with the beautiful ideas of reason. 



486 ABSTEACT SENTIMENTS. 

effect. And here it may be observed fchat the home, how- 
ever pretty and tasteful, and however well supplied with 
pictures, cannot supply an adequate basis of aesthetic ex- 
perience. A child, though unable to appreciate nature 
in her more subtle and complex aspects, can, and is indeed 
eager to, appreciate such simple beauties as the colours 
and forms of flowers, of insects and birds, and even of 
those beautiful objects which Mr. Ruskin gives as the 
example of nature's purest colouring, clouds. It is only 
by such early companionship with nature that the most 
valuable aesthetic associations can be built up. 

Yet the presence of suitable surroundings does not of 
itself supply what we mean by aesthetic education. As 
we know, children may be brought up amidst the most 
lovely natural surroundings and not acquire an aesthetic 
admiration for natural scenery. It is for the mother 
or other educator to direct the child's attention to what 
is beautiful in his surroundings, and so to appeal directly 
to the germ of taste. Such appeals when wisely directed 
are often the beginning of a fuller and deeper aesthetic 
enjoyment. George Sand tells us that when in her 
fourth year she travelled into Spain with her mother, 
the latter used to say on coming to some new scene, 
" Look ! how pretty that is," and she adds : " Immediately 
these objects, which I should not have remarked of my- 
self, revealed to me their beauty ". 

Here much tact is needed so as not to overstep the 
limits of childish appreciation, and to call attention only 
to what a child can enjoy if he puts forth an effort of 
attention. Nature is full of subtle charms which the 
child's eye can feel when wisely guided by another eye. 
The mere colouring of natural objects — of a moss-grown 



ACTION OF NATURE ON GEOWING TASTE. 487 

tree-trunk, or a running stream, for example — is a lasting 
feast for the cultivated eye, and a child may, even if he 
is not a little John Ruskin, take his modest seat at the 
banquet. 

While the child's taste is thus being developed in the 
contemplation of nature's beauty, it should be further 
educated by habitual contact with well-selected examples 
of good art. The influence of a refined mother, who 
studies what is pleasing to the eye in the home and her 
own appearance and manner, may, as we know, be all- 
important in exciting a nascent feeling for beauty, and 
giving the first direction to the child's standard of taste. 
More than this, the child should from the first be edu- 
cated in the appreciation of the simpler works of the fine 
arts. The pictures and picture-books of the nursery 
may be made to serve this purpose, and much more 
might be done, both in the home and the school, by way 
of laying the foundation in children's minds of a refined 
taste for music, for literature, and for dramatic spectacle. 

It is an important principle that the study and appre- 
ciation of art reacts on our sesthetic perception of natural 
objects. In my own case it was the study of music 
which developed a true appreciation of the qualities of 
bird song. Art, by its very process of selection and 
isolation, brings out the beauties of nature. As Fra 
Lippo Lippi says in Browning's poem : — ^ 

"... we're made so that we love 
First when we see them painted, things we have passed 
Perhaps a hundred times nor cared to see ". 

This gives to art its pre-eminence as an instrument of 
aesthetic culture. The principle has, I consider, an im- 
portant bearing on education. 



438 ABSTEACT SENTIMENTS. 

^Esthetic training, in order to be complete, should call 
forth the 'productive impulses of children. And this in 
part because artistic skill is always a source of pure and 
elevating enjoyment both to the producer himself and to 
others; and in part because a certain degree of familiarity 
with the processes of artistic production is necessary to 
an appreciation of a work of art as the expression of the 
artist's idea. 

In training a child great care is needed lest we hurry 
the process of natural and normal growth. The peda- 
gogical impulse to correct the young mind, which is pro- 
bably in excess in most parents and teachers, leads others 
besides little George Sand's worthy grandmother to "snub" 
children's ideas of what is pretty and tasteful. In the 
case of the average accommodating child the effect of 
this attempt to educate up to the grown-up's level is to 
induce affectation of taste, a half-hearted repetition of 
what others say. " ^Esthetic jargon " is by no means 
unknown among children of artists and other aesthetic 
persons. " Nothing (remarks Jean Paul Richter) is more 
dangerous for art, as well as for character, than the 
expression of immature feeling."^ Children should be 
allowed to relish the simple aesthetic enjoyments proper 
to their age, such as that of pictures with ga}^ colouring, 
and of simple tunes with well-marked and taking 
rhythms. 

In exercising the aesthetic judgment, the educator does 
well to encourage the young learner to observe, and to 
pronounce opinion for himself. He should recognise the 
fact that taste, though controlled by certain universal 

^ See his valuable remarks on the " Cultivation of the Esthetic 
Sense," Levana, translated by Susan Wood, eighth fragment. 



THE SCHOOL AS CULTIVATING TASTE. 489 

laws, is in the case of every individual modified by 
special sensibilities, and so claims a measure of freedom. 

The cultivation of the sesthetic sentiment, while it 
requires a special course of training, connects itself with, 
and may in a sense enter into, other departments of 
education. On one side it stands in close connection 
with intellectual education. The feeling for what is 
graceful and harmonious may be developed to some ex- 
tent in connection with such seemingly prosaic exercises 
as learning to read and to write ; and by this means a 
certain sesthetic interest may be attached to the exercise. 
Training in a nicer use of the mother-tongue in vocal 
recitation and written composition — a sadly neglected 
branch of training in these days — offers a wider field 
for this culture. Many branches of study when fully 
carried out act directly on the growth of the aesthetic 
feelings, and owe much of their interest and value to this 
circumstance. This is pre-eminently true of the study 
of classics and of the higher languages and literatures 
generally. Such studies, if at all thorough and carried 
far enough, should develop not only a fine sense for the 
value of words and verbal expression, but a genuine 
appreciation of literature as the art which conserves for 
us beauties of imagination and thought in the most 
perfect form of expression. 

On another side, the training of the sesthetic sense 
connects itself with moral training. It has been pointed 
out by writers on education that sesthetic culture, if 
only by serving to moderate the turbulence of natural 
emotion, and to enlighten it by attaching it to clear 
perceptions and ideas, is a valuable aid to moral culture. 
A child that can calmly contemplate and admire a 



490 ABSTRACT SENTIMENTS. 

beautiful object is the better prepared for appreciating 
human actions on their moral side. 

But the connection between the two departments of 
culture is closer than this. Without going so far as 
certain Greek thinkers and identifying the beautiful and 
the morally good, it may be safely said that an admira- 
tion for what is beautiful in human action and character 
includes a moral element. To thrill with admiration when 
reading of an exceptionally brave action or of some piece 
of noble self-denial implies an appreciation of its moral 
worth. Hence the moral importance of exercising the 
young in this direction of aesthetic admiration. History 
and literature of the best kind give to the educator 
ample opportunity for such exercises. 

Lastly, it is worth noting that the conjoint cultivation 
of aesthetic and moral feeling enters into the training 
of the young in certain habits of conduct. This applies 
to the development of habits of cleanliness and neatness, 
of orderliness, of courtesy and good manners. These 
are at once matters of minor morals, and of aesthetic 
value as serving to beautify life. 

(C) THE MORAL SENTIMENT. 

We may now pass to the last of the three sentiments, 
that known as the Moral or Ethical Sentiment. The 
special variety of emotional effect referred to under 
this head is indicated by a variety of names, such 
as the feeling of Moral Obligation, of Reverence for the 
Moral Law, of Moral Approbation and Disapprobation. 
In its highest form, perhaps, the sentiment is best 
described as the Love of Moral Excellence or Virtue. As 
these names imply, it includes, like the aesthetic senti- 



MOEAL SENTIMENT. 491 

ment, a pleasurable and a correlative painful experience. 
We are pleased by the spectacle of duty performed, 
pained by that of duty violated. 

The Moral Sentiment is clearly more restricted in 
range of object than the Esthetic. It is called forth only 
by certain human manifestations, viz.^ voluntary actions, 
together with the dispositions and the type of character 
which these actions express. The feeling attaches itself 
definitely to the moral side of such actions, their aspect 
of rightness or wrongness, moral goodness or badness. 
The actions which thus excite the moral sentiment may 
be those of another person presented externally, or 
our own actions examined reflectively. The term 
" conscience " refers especially to the self- directed variety 
of the feeling. In each case alike, however, the senti- 
ment directs itself to the moral quality of the action, 
%vhich is one and the smne in the case of all agents 
alike. 

The element which most distinctly colours and marks 
ofi* from other emotional states the moral sentiment is a 
feeling of obligation or of oughtness. In approving an 
action as right we feel that it is binding on us, that we 
are not free to do or not to do it, as in the case of actions 
which are morally indifferent — e.g., in following out par- 
ticular individual tastes. In reacting under the form of 
moral feeling we acknowledge our allegiance to some 
authority, whether that of an external power, the voice 
of the community, or of some internal principle which 
we ourselves set up as regulative. 

It is evident from this brief account of the moral senti- 
ment that it stands in a peculiar relation to our practical 
life. Just as the Intellectual Sentiment is the great 



492 ABSTRACT SENTIMENTS. 

prompter and sustainer of our intellectual activity, so is 
the sentiment of Duty or of Virtue the great restraining 
and stimulating force in the domain of outward action 
and conduct. The ethical value of the sentiment depends 
on the fact of its close organic connection with the 
volitional processes. 

It is evident, further, that the moral sentiment is 
closely related to the " Social Feelings ". Whatever may 
be the true relation between right conduct and conduct 
which considers and seeks to further the general as dis- 
tinguished from the individual's own happiness, it is 
certain that the moral consciousness can only develop 
to its normal perfection and realise its proper satis- 
faction by our entering into and fulfilling social rela- 
tions. The child's first dim sense of obligation arises in 
connection with the situation of subjection to others' 
autiiority. The higher developments of the sentiment 
show the same thing. The free self -subjection of the 
" good will " is still a recognition of others' claims, of the 
supremacy of the community over the individual, of the 
universal over the single will. Nor is this all. What 
we call virtuous conduct always has some reference to 
the happiness and welfare of others as well as of our- 
selves. Broad and quick sympathies and the disposition 
to consider others and to put ourselves in their place 
are the very life-principle in all the higher developments 
of the moral sentiment. The moral sentiment can only 
fully develop in a civilised community, and concur- 
rently with the development of the sympathies. 

While the feeling of moral disapproval and approval 
is throughout of one and the same tissue, it assumes a 
variety of forms according to the particular character of 



ANALYSIS OF MOEAL FEELING. 493 

the action which is its object, and the special concomi- 
tant feelings which it calls up. Thus in the feeling with 
which we condemn a lie there is a distinctly intellectual 
element, a painful shock of contradiction ; in the senti- 
ment with which we denounce a piece of wanton cruelty 
there is an ingredient of anger ; in our condemnation of 
a man's action in meanly taking advantage of another 
there is something of contempt, and so forth. 

Again, it is to be noted that there is the important 
difference between the relatively cool state of mind in 
which we barely approve of an action as right, say pay- 
ing one's school bill, and the warmer, more enthusiastic 
state of mind in which we praise a virtuous act, that is, 
one which clearly exceeds the limits of " duty " in its 
more restricted and conventional sense, as for instance. 
the handing over of a fortune to one who we consider 
has a stronger moral claim to it than ourselves. This 
feeling, as already suggested, has an aesthetic element 
in it, viz., admiration of what is rare and lofty. 

These different forms of the moral sentiment do not 
always co-exist in equal strength in the same individual. 
A tender-hearted boy may have a keen abhorrence of 
cruelty, and yet be sadly wanting in reverence for 
truth or veracity. Such individual differences point to 
the complexity of the moral sentiment, to the ways in 
which emotional temperament and the preponderance of 
particular emotions of a lower order affect the colouring 
of the sentiment. They point further to the fact that 
the action of the human environment and education on 
the moral feeling is a variable action ; some homes, schools 
and still larger communities serving to develop a certain 
type of moral sentiment, others another. The charac- 



494 ABSTEACT SENTIMENTS. 

teristic regime of the English public school is apt, whilst 
encouraging certain directions of moral feeling almost to 
excess, to neglect other directions. 

Moral Feeling and Moral Judgment. Here, as 
in the case of the aesthetic faculty, we may see that the 
emotional element is closely bound up with an intellec- 
tual process. An enlightened conscience implies not 
only a fine emotional susceptibility but a faculty of dis- 
cerning the presence of certain qualities in actions. The 
full development of this intellectual process is what we 
call Moral Judgment. In order to pronounce an action 
to be right or wrong we must be able to recognise in it 
certain essential elements on the ground of which we 
predicate the " rightness " or the " wrongness ". 

Here again we may distinguish stages in the develop- 
ment of the judgment, (a) First comes the stage of subjec- 
tive feeling, as when a child calls another child "naughty" 
because he offends him in some way, as by striking him 
or seizing his toy. (h) In the second stage the child 
recognises the objective character of morality, so as to 
mean by " wrong" and "right" what is wrong and right 
for all alike. So far he carries out a true process of 
moral judgment. At the same time it is a blind judg- 
ment, i.e., one not based on a clear detection of those 
characteristics in actions which make them proper 
objects for approval or its opposite. (c) The third 
stage implies the carrying out of a process of rational 
discernment, and may be called a rational moral 
judgment Such a process is carried out, for example, 
when a boy comes to understand what "just" and 
''unjust" mean, and goes through the intellectual pro- 
cess of analysing a particular action, say that of an 



MORAL JUDGMENT. 495 

umpire in a cricket match, so as to recognise it as unjust 
(" unfair"). 

The Moral Standard. Men's judgments as to what 
is right and wrong, even if they do not vary so much 
as those respecting what is beautiful and ugly, show 
great diversities. Not only are there the striking 
differences between the moral sentiments of different 
communities and ages — say of ancient Athens and 
modern England ; within the limits of one and the same 
community different social groups may set up different 
standards of what is honest or honourable. 

Yet in spite of such perplexing differences there is 
with the gradual evolution of societies a distinct ten- 
dency towards convergence of moral judgment — on all 
the important essentials of duty at least. That is to 
say, men as they become more perfectly socialised and 
more intelligent come to agree more and more closely as 
to what constitutes moral goodness and badness. 

The moral judgment of an individual only becomes 
sound or valid in proportion as he corrects his owu first 
narrow and prejudiced views by a reference to the larger 
and universal view, substituting for the traditional and 
accidental standard of his home, or of his particular 
set, the standard agreed upon by the wisest and the best. 

Growth of the Moral Sentiment. A good deal of 
not very profitable discussion has been carried on as to 
whether the moral faculty is innate or " instinctive," or 
whether, on the other hand, it is the result of experience 
and education. The probability is that it is both the one 
and the other. That is to say, children have certain 
" natural tendencies " which certainly favour the develop- 
ment of a moral feeling, yet, on the other hand, only 



498 ABSTEACT SENTIMENTS. 

attain a complete moral sentiment under the action of 
" social experience," that is experience of social life and 
education. 

Among the congenital tendencies which appear to 
take part in the process of moral growth and which 
serve as a basis for the work of moral education, I should 
include first of all the susceptibility to the commanding 
influence of personcdity. A germ of this tendency 
is seen probably in the first months of life in the check- 
ing of crying or some mischievous action by the mother's 
firm repressive utterance. This impulse is closely akin 
to the early forms of the fear-reaction (e.g., the effects of 
loud, sudden sounds), and may be described as a variety 
of fear excited by a strong manifestation, in voice or 
gesture, of the commanding presence of the human adult. 

The way in which the moral sentiment gradually 
develops in the case of a normal child with normal 
surroundings seems to be as follows. We set out with 
the undeniable fact that at first the child finds the 
restraints of nursery government more or less irksome 
throughout, and at times intolerable. He begins his 
moral education with a strong dash of the rebel in him.^ 
At the same time this early government finds a certain 
support in the timorous and deferential attitude of the 
child. The experience of the unpleasant consequences 
attached to a breach of a command gives definite direc- 
tion to this submissive attitude, and the child comes to 
recoil from " naughty " actions which bring trouble. 

This deferential attitude towards parental government 
and its rules becomes modified by the development of 

1 For illustrations of the rebel attitude, see my Studies of Childhood^ 
p. 267 ff. 



GROWTH OF MOEAL FEELING. 497 

new impulses. For one thing the growth of affection for 
the parent, and trust in her wisdom, temper the attitude 
^Teatly, bringing the little subject a step at least towards 
cordial acceptance of the commands as right. A still 
more potent factor is the co-operation of the impulse to 
abide by the customary, which shows itself at a certain 
age in normal children whose surroundings have orderli- 
ness of arrangement. Under the sway of this impulse a 
child will not only learn to expect the rebuke, the punish- 
ment, or on the other hand the word of commendation, 
but will even resent any apparent omission of what is 
due. This respect for custom, when it grows more 
intelligent, shows itself as a disposition to universalise 
rules, to apply moral epithets, "naughty," " good," to other 
children, and even grown-ups.^ 

Even now, however, the feeling of the child for the 
rules under which he lives is very far from being an 
intelligent respect for the inherent quality of moral 
Tightness. In order that it may pass into an intelligent 
appreciation another kind of experience is necessary, 
and this is supplied by the experience of social life which 
comes to every child who has companions. 

Thrown with others frOm the first, a child soon finds 
that his comfort is affected in various ways by what they 
do. Another child may take one of his toys or strike 
him, and by causing him suffering call forth the self- 
protective impulse to retaliate. Or, on tne contrary, 
the other may prove himself to be generous and share 
his toys with him, and by thus augmenting his hap- 
piness call forth a feeling of grateful liking. In such 

1 I have given numerous examples of this in my Studies of Child^ 
hood, p. 277 ff. 
33 



498 ABSTEACT SENTIMENTS. 

ways children when thrown together and left in some 
measure free to follow out their spontaneous lines of 
activity, gradually gain experience of the effects of actions 
which they hear called naughty or good, on their own 
welfare. That " right " and " wrong " acquire their deeper 
meaning for each of us by reference to the actions of 
others which affect us injuriously or otherwise seems 
certain. Witness the special emphasis of the child's 
" naughty " when addressed to another child who is 
offending him in some way. As Rousseau says : " The 
first sense of justice comes to us, not from our obliga- 
tions to others, but from others' obligations to ourselves" 
(Emile, livre ii.).^ By help of such experiences, when 
reflection is added, a child passes to some extent out of 
the stage of an unintelligent submission to moral rule to 
that of an intelligent approval of it. 

Further experience supplemented by reflection would 
teach the child the important truth that right conduct is 
a matter of reciprocity , that the honest, fair, and kind 
behaviour of others toward himself, which he naturally 
desires to have, is conditional on his acting similarly 
towards them. In this way he would be led to attach a 
new importance to his own performance of actions which 
he has had recommended to him as good, and which, 
when carried out by another towards himself, he already 
recognises to be eminently desirable. He now begins to 
t^ee that he ought to do what is right, e.g., speak the 
truth, by dimly discerning that network of reciprocal 

1 The idea that the feeling of justice has its roots in the self- 
protective impulse, the impulse to resent injury to ourselves, is well 
brought out in J. S. Mill's analysis of the sentiment (see his Utilitari- 
anism, chap. v.). 



HIGHER DEVELOPMENTS OF MORAL FEELINQ. 499 

relations which binds us each to each as fellow-members 
of a community. 

One further step must be taken in order that our 
little learner in the school of morals may attain to a 
genuine and pure repugnance to wrong as such. This 
step is the result of the development of the higher forms 
of sympathy. 

To illustrate the influenqe of such a higher sympathy, 
let us suppose that a child A suffers from the angry out- 
bursts or the greedy propensities of a second child B, 
and that later on he notes that other children, say C and 
D, also suffer in much the same way from B's attacks. 
If his sympathetic impulses are sufficiently keen he will 
be able by help of his own similar sufferings to put him- 
self in the place of C or D, to enter into his smart of 
injury and his impulse of resentment towards B. Such 
a sympathetic realisation of injury done not to himself 
but to another is of the highest moral importance as 
helping to detach the idea of injury and wrong from the 
individual and to universalise it under the form " injury 
to anybody ". 

Of course, this result is not arrived at all at once. 
Children will resent a wrong done to their pet animal 
or their mother long before they resent it when done to 
a stranger. Hence, it may be observed in passing, 
the importance of the home and family relations as a 
cradle for the nursing of the sense of right and wrong 
in its early and feeble stage of development. The 
development of a wider and more impartial sentiment 
of right and wrong waits on that fuller development 
of the sympathies which has been traced out above (see 
p. 464 ff.). 



600 ABSTBACT SENTIMENTS. 

The highest outcome of this habit of sympathetic 
indignation against wrongdoing is a disinterested re- 
pugnance to ones own wrong action. The really hard 
task for a child, as every intelligent mother knows, is to 
realise by help of a sympathetic imagination the result 
of his own naughtiness. It is only very slowly that he 
learns to put himself at the point of view of the child 
that he has wronged, and from this new sympathetic 
point of view look back on himself, the doer of the 
wrong, with a feeling of self-condemnation. When he 
has reached this achievement he may be said to have 
acquired a full realisation of the universal validity of 
moral relations. He has by the same process developed 
a new principle of moral self -judgment, which will when 
matured render him independent of external authority, 
substituting the motive of conscience for that of fear, 
even when this is tempered with affection. 

The higher developments of the moral sentiment in- 
volve not only a deepening and quickening of the feel- 
ings, but a considerable enlightenment of the intelligence. 
In order to discern all the elements which give the moral 
complexion to an action, in order to detect the subtler 
distinctions between right and wrong, fine imaginative 
processes and delicate acts of discriminative judgment 
have to be carried out. Hence the familiar fact that a 
ripe moral faculty is rarely if ever attained in youth, or, 
indeed, in the first half of life. 

The moral sentiment involves new elements and a new 
accompaniment of intellectual processes when it takes 
the form of an enthusiastic worship of virtue, of an aspira- 
tion towards the ideal of a perfect character. Here 
imagination touched with emotion is the all-important 



DISINTEEESTED MOEAL FEELING. 501 

feature. Youth is emphatically the time for the growth 
of such moral ideals. 

The Training of the Moral Faculty. Since the 
moral feeling stands in a peculiarly close relation to the 
will, the problem of exercising and developing it is 
intimately connected with that of educating the will 
and forming the moral character. Although we have 
not yet reached this larger problem we may even at this 
stage inquire into the best means of developing the 
moral sentiment regarded as an emotional and intel- 
lectual product. 

Inasmuch as the government of the parent or other 
person is the external agency that first acts upon the 
germ of the moral sentiment, it is evident that the work 
of cultivating the moral feelings should form a con- 
spicuous feature in the plan of early education. The 
nature of the early nursery government, more particularly, 
is apt to have a decisive influence in determining the 
first feeble movements of the childish sense of duty. In 
order that any system of rule may have a beneficial 
moral influence and tend in the direction of moral 
growth, it must satisfy the requirements of a good and 
efficient system. What these are is a point which will 
bo considered later on ; here it may suffice to say that 
rules must be laid down seriously, and enforced uniformly 
and consistently, yet with a careful consideration of 
special circumstances, so as to give the child the idea of 
the inviolability and impartiality of the moral law. 

The educative effect of any system of early govern- 
ment on the moral feelings will clearly depend on the 
spirit and temper in which it is enforced. A certain 
measure of calm becomes the judicial function, and a 



502 ABSTRACT SENTIMENTS. 

parent or teacher who is wont to be carried away by 
violent passion is unfit for moral control. At the same 
time it will not do for the moral educator, when 
administering discipline, to disguise his personality 
under the form of a cold lifeless abstraction. He must, 
indeed, properly represent the august and rigorously 
impartial moral law, yet he may do this as a living 
personality that is capable of being deeply pained at the 
sight of wrongdoing. By so doing he may foster respect 
for the moral law by enlisting on his side those warmer 
feelings that attach themselves to a concrete personality. 

The perfect infusion into the work of early moral 
training of the warmth of the educator's own feeling 
involves the constant and noiseless action of that moral 
atmosphere which encompasses a good personality. A 
child comes under the influence of this atmosphere 
when, for example, he begins to realise that his mother 
or teacher is a perfect embodiment of truthfulness, and 
to feel a repugnance to a lie because he feels how re- 
pugnant it is to her. 

The higher kind of education, which aims at training 
the moral faculty in a more self-reliant form of activity, 
will include the habitual exercise of the sympathetic 
feelings and the moral judgment. In this higher depart- 
ment the educator has much to do in the way of direct- 
ing the child's attention to the overlooked effects of his 
conduct. The injurious consequences of wrongdoing and 
the beneficent results of rightdoing ought to be made 
clear to him, and his sympathies developed, so that he may 
set himself against the one and on the side of the other. 
Not only so, as his mind develops he should be exercised 
in reflecting on the grounds of moral distinctions, in 



EDUCATION OF MOEAL FEELING. 603 

recognising the inherent reasonableness of the require- 
ments of the moral law. Here the daily experience 
obtained by a collision of individual wills should be' 
utilised. He should be trained further in comparing 
different moral situations so as to acquire a certain 
readiness in discriminating rightness and wrongness in 
their manifold embodiments. 

What is called moral instruction should in the first 
stages of education consist largely in presenting to the 
child's mind simple and telling examples of fulfilment or 
breach of duty, with a view to call forth the moral 
feelings as well as to exercise the moral judgment. 
His own circumscribed sphere of observation should 
little by little be supplemented by suitable readings 
from the page of history and of fiction. As in this way 
a wider variety of good and bad action comes to be 
known, the young learner will begin to recognise 
something of the far-reaching sway of the moral law 
over human conduct, as well as. to penetrate more deeply 
into the meaning of moral language. Such a widening 
of the moral horizon is also an important factor in 
developing ideals of lofty virtue. 

The problem of determining the exact relation of intel- 
lectual to moral culture is one which has perplexed men's 
minds since Socrates put forward the proposition that 
all virtue is a kind of knowledge. It seems clear, from 
what has been said above, that some enlightenment of 
the intelligence is essential to the growth of a clear and 
refined moral sense. A child cannot, for example, learn 
to be just without going through somewhat laborious 
processes of thought. 

Yet while the educator has thus to exercise thought in 



504 ABSTEACT SENTIMENTS. 

connection with moral instruction, he must beware lest 
in developing knowledge about moral distinctions he 
misses the more valuable result, a warm and vigorous 
feeling for what is right and wrong. This applies with 
especial force to those later and more formal exercises, 
such as learning to classify and to define the several 
provinces of human duty. The educator should never 
forget that the moral consciousness is essentially emo- 
tional and impulsive, and that any system of moral 
instruction must finally be tested by its effect on the 
feelings and the actions. 

The education of a child's moral sentiment is, as we 
have seen, carried out to an important extent by daily 
association with other children in the free play of social 
life. Hence to surround a child with companions is not 
only something necessary for his fuller activity and 
happiness, but is an indispensable condition for a complete 
development of the moral consciousness. If the home, 
by its warmth of personal affection, its close and delicate 
care of the individual, is fitted to be the " cradle " of 
morality, the school — that is, schoolroom and playground 
together — with its larger community, its greater range 
of concerted action, its carefully formulated system of 
rules, is the drilling-ground where the moral faculty is 
exercised in an intelligent insight into what morality 
really means. It is as a member of this larger community 
that a child truly learns that right and wrong have a 
universal claim, just because they have their origin and 
their support in the needs of social life. 

In order that the educative influence of the school- 
community on the moral consciousness of the individual 
members may become all that it is capablo of becoming^ 



SCHOOL AS DEVELOPING MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 605 

it must of course be throughout morally organised. This 
means not only that the discipline carried out by the 
authorities, both within and without the class-room, 
clearly shows itself to its subjects to be essentially a 
moral discipline by its fairness and its considerateness, 
but that the public opinion of the scholars as it freely 
expresses itself in the playground is morally sound. The 
action of the school authorities on this public opinion 
must in the main be indirect, for to seek to control it 
directly would be to rob it of much of its educative value. 
Yet the indirect influence on the " moral tone " of this 
juvenile community of a wise and good master or mis- 
tress may be a profound one. The feeling in favour of 
sociability, of co-operation in games, of fair play and 
the rest, must be a genuine childish growth, yet a growth 
which everywhere shows touches of a watchful, fostering 
hand. 

Not the least valuable part of this action of the teacher 
on the young community is the- restraining of the turbu- 
lence and excessive pressure of numbers. All crowds 
are in a sense irrational, and liable to go madly wrong 
through the mere contagion of numbers. .The childish 
crowd is by no means an exception to the rule. The 
feeling of the playground, even when morally healthy, is 
apt to be a little excessive. Since, as we have seen, its 
moral value depends on the fuller experience of social 
life which it supplies, a certain amount of individual 
liberty is desirable even in the interests of mora] 
culture, and must where necessary be insisted upon. 
And the teacher does well to remember that the young 
crowd is by no means always morally right, that the 
force of contagious opinion and sentiment in the play- 



506 ABSTEACT SENTIMENTS. 

ground may become tyrannical by unduly oppressing 
the individual, and that what is morally good, and might 
after calm examination be seen to be so, may easily be 
stamped out by the masterful prejudices of numbers. 

EEFERENCES FOR READING. 

For a fuller psychological account of the higher Sentiments the 
reader may consult the following : J. Sully, The Human Mind, vol. ii,, 
chap. xvi. ; H. Hoffding, Outlines of Psycliology, vi. , C, 8 and 9. 

The earlier developments of the feeling of Curiosity are dealt with 
by J. Sully, Studies of Childhood, chap. iii. (" The Questioning Age ") ; 

A. Bain, Education as a Science, p. 90 ff. ; B. Perez, The First Three 
Years of Childhood, chap, vi., sect. 1 ; and G. Compayre, U Evolution 
intellectuelle et morale de Venfant, chap. ix. The reader of German 
may further consult the article " Interesse " in Rein's Encyclop. 
Handbuch der Padagogik. 

On the cultivation of a spirit of inquiry and a love of intellectual 
pursuits, the following will be found useful : J. Locke, Thoughts, § 
118 ; H. Spencer, Education, chap. ii. ; A. Bain, Ediication as a Science, 
chap. vi. (p. 177 ff.) ; J. Tyndall, Lectures on Education, lect. 5 ; E. 
Thring, The&ry and Practice of Teaching, part i., chap. vi. ; and B. 
Perez, L' Education des le Berceau, chap. ii. The reader of German 
may consult further the article " Interesse " in Rein's Encyclop. Hand- 
buch already referred to. 

The development of Taste and the artistic impulse in children is 
illustrated by J. Sully, Studies of Childhood, chaps, ix. and x. ; and 

B. Perez, L'Education intellectuelle, chap. ix. 

On the cultivation of the Esthetic Faculty the student may con- 
sult the following : Maria Edgeworth, Practical Education, chap. xxii. ; 
A. Bain, Education as a Science, chap. xiii. ; J. S. Mill, St. Andreiv's 
Address (people's edition), p. 42 ff. ; Madame Necker, U Education 
Progressive, livre v., chap. iii. ; and H. Marion, Legons de Psychologic, 
le(?on xvii., sect. 2. The reader of German may also refer to 
Th. Waitz, Allgem. Padagogik, §19; F. Dittes, Grundriss der 
Erziehungs mid Unterrichtslehre, §§ 56, 67 ; Bruno Meyer, Aus der 
CBsthetischen Padagogik ; Konrad Lange, Kiinstlerische Erzichung der 
deutschen Jugend (Darmstadt, 1893) ; and the article " .^sthetische 
Bildung " in Rein's Encyclop. Handh^ich der Padagogik. 

The early developments of Moral Feeling are dealt with by the 



ACTION OF TEACHER ON MORAL FEELING. 507 

following : B. Perez, Fiist Three Years of Childhood, chap. xiii. ; G. 
Compayre, L' Evolution intellectuelle et morale de Venfant, chaps, xiii. 
and xiv. ; and J. Sully, Studies of Childhood, chaps, vii. and viii. The 
reader of German may also consult G. F. Pfisterer, PacZagro^. Psychologie, 
§§ 16, 18. 

On the cultivation of Moral Feeling and Judgment the following 
■will be found useful : H. Spencer, Education, chap. iii. ; A. Bain, 
Education as a Science, chap. iii. {p. 100 f!.), and chap. xii. ; Madame 
Necker, L'Edtication Progressive, livre iii., chap. vi. ; B. Perez, 
L'Education dks le Berceau, chap, vii., sects. 2 to 5 ; G. Compayre, 
Cours de Pedagogic, part i., leyon x. ; and H. Marion, Legons de 
Psychologie, le^on xvii., sects. 3 and 4. The reader of German may 
further consult F. E. Beneke, Erziehungs Und Unterrichtslehre, §§ 47- 
55; Th. Waitz, Allgem. Pddagogik, § 14; F. Dittes, Grundriss, §§ 
58-62 ; and the article " Gewissen und Gewissensbildung " ic E,ein's 
Encyclop. Handbuch der Pddagogik* 



PAET IV. 

DEVELOPMENT OF THE WILL AND CHARACTER. 
CHAPTER XIX. 

THE CONATIVE FUNCTION: DEVELOPMENT OF 
VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 

Having now investigated the working of the affective 
function and traced out the course of development of the 
life of feeling, we may pass on to the consideration of the 
third function of our mental life, viz., the Conative or 
striving function, which in its higher development be- 
comes what we call a volitional process, or "willing" 
(compare above, chap, iv., p. 46). 

Definition of Conation. By the term Conation we 
seek to mark off what is in a peculiar sense the active 
phase of our mental life. We are " active " in this sense 
when we consciously exercise our limbs, as in lifting 
a heavy weight. Conation does not, however, always 
issue in muscular action. We are active and cona- 
tive so far as we have an impulse to do something. 
Conation when developed becomes the volitional process, 
or willing to do something. It is the work of the 
psychologist to show how such volitional processes arise 
out of the germinal forms of Conation manifested at the 
beginning of life. 



THE CONATIVE PROCESSES. 509 

Origin of Voluntary Movement: (a) Congenital 
Factor. In seeking to follow the development of the 
conative process we shall do well to start with the 
problem of voluntary movement. By this is meant a 
muscular movement which is consciously directed to the 
gaining of some end, or which is accompanied by 
" psychical purpose " (see above, chap, vi., p. 127). A 
child carries out a voluntary movement when he holds 
out his hand to take something which is offered him. 

These movements do not appear at the beginning 
of life, but are acquired by help of experience. Be- 
fore a child can carry out intelligently any move- 
ment in order to gratify a wish or desire, he must 
have had some experience of that which he desires 
so as to be able to represent it, and also some previous 
experience of the relation of antecedent and consequent 
between the movement he carries out and the realisation 
of his desire. We have now to ask how such simple 
actions are developed. 

In reviewing the elements of our psychical life (chap. 
vi.) we have seen that a child carries out a number 
of movements of a non-voluntary character. Some of 
these, e.g., Reflex Movements, are of but little interest as 
contributing elements to voluntary movements ; others, 
again, are of the greatest importance. This applies to 
Instinctive Movements, in the comprehensive sense of 
this term defined above (p. 128). 

The characteristic of these instinctive movements is 
that they are feeling-prompted. A child carrying out 
the movements of sucking under the stimulus of hunger 
illustrates this characteristic. A feeling of distress and 
of want here generates an iTnpulse to movement, and 



510 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

the movement, in the degree of its vigour, reflects the 
intensity of the feeling. 

There is reason to believe that, as the result of con- 
genital nervous connections, all feeling directly excites 
movement, its range and its energy varying with the 
intensity of the feeling. A child when affected by 
pleasurable feeling will move the limbs and the vocal 
apparatus. Still more marked is this disposition to 
movement in the case of painful experiences. A child, 
suffering from the pains of indigestion, or what not, is 
apt to move his head and arms, to wriggle his body, and 
to carry out other movements which indicate a state of 
discontent and a vague sense of want or craving for 
something. 

(h) Effects of Experience. When movements thus 
arise during a markedly pleasurable or painful state 
some of them are pretty certain to have an effect on 
the feeling-tone. A child carried away by a feeling of 
delight may by a movement lose the source of his delight, 
e.g., in letting drop some pretty bauble. On the other 
hand the movement may tend to intensify, or at least to 
prolong, the enjoyment, as when the pleasure of the bath 
is furthered by the plashing movements of the arms and 
hands. Similarly with respect to painful states. When 
for example a child is lying in an uncomfortable position, 
a wriggling movement of the body may make matters 
worse, but is much more likely to make them better. Any 
changes of this kind, just because they affect feeling, are 
interesting and so are likely to attract attention and to 
be remembered. When they occur again and again the 
connection between the particular movement and the 
result in change of feeling-tone would (according to the 



GEOWTH OF VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 511 

law of contiguous association) be fixed in the mind. In 
this way a child would gradually obtain a stock of 
experiences respecting the effects of his own move- 
TYients on his comfort and discomfort. 

We may now go a step further. A child, like all 
sentient creatures, is so constituted as to seek what is 
pleasurable and beneficial, and to avoid what is painful 
and hurtful. When, therefore, he reaches the ap-e at 
which he can represent some beneficial change, say the 
removal of the disagreeable sensation of chilliness by 
contact with the mother's body, and can also represent 
the movement by which this change can be brought 
about, viz., cuddling to his mother, his natural impulse 
to seek what is agreeable or beneficial will prompt him to 
give eft'ect to the idea, that is to realise it as actual move- 
ment. 

We may say, then, that the simplest form of voluntary 
movement arises by a selection of a useful, that is a bene- 
ficial, movement from the field of non-voluntary move- 
inent. This simple variety of voluntary movement 
first appears, according to Preyer, after the completion 
of the first three months. The process of selection of 
movement here described is greatly aided by special 
instinctive dispositions. Thus the act of stretching out 
the hand and seizing an object, though it requires to 
be learned by practice, is, as Preyer has shown, aided by 
congenital elements. The same is true of walking and 
other movements. 

The Factors in Voluntary Action: {a) Desire. If 
we analyse one of these apparently simple voluntary 
movements we find that it is a somewhat complex pro- 
cess. Let us take an example : A child has had ac^ain 



512 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

and again the agreeable experience of listening to the 
ticking of your watch. The next time you take out 
your watch he proceeds to open it and place it near his 
ear in order to renew the experience. 

Here the first stage is the excitation by the sight of 
the watch of a certain desire, viz., to hold the watch 
and hear the ticking. All movements which can be 
called voluntary actions involve this element of desire for 
something. The " object of desire" may be described as 
the possession of that which we find ourselves without, or 
better, as some change from a worse to a better condi- 
tion. Although growing out of feeling and closely con- 
nected with it, desire is marked off from passive feeling 
by the characteristic of active tension. To desire that 
which we do not possess is to be mentally reaching out 
for the object. 

Desire is clearljT- related to that restless craving which 
appears in instinctive movement. In this last, how- 
ever, though there is craving there is no definite repre- 
sentation of what is needed. The word Ap2)etite, in con- 
tradistinction to Desire, brings out the difierence. The 
bodily appetites are at the outset essentially blind im- 
pulses brought on by certain organic sensations. They 
work independently of experience and are necessary for 
the preservation of life. After experience is added the 
first blind craving gives place to a more definite longing. 
That is to say, the experienced child when hungry is no 
longer impelled merely by organic appetite but by a 
representation of the pleasures of satisfying hunger. 
At this stage desire, properly so called, is added to ap- 
petite. 

It follows that desire or definite longing for something 



DESIRE AS CONATIVE ELEMENT. 513 

with its distinct mental representation is the result oi' 
experience. It is the product of experience oi* what is 
agreeable working on the natural disposition of the child 
to activity. The experience of the disagreeable works 
on this disposition also, but by exciting the opposite 
attitude of aversion, or desire to get rid of, or to avoid, 
what is unpleasant. 

{h) Idea of Suitable Action: Motor Representa- 
tion. Desire, though necessary to a voluntary act, does 
not of itself produce such an act. Before it becomes effec- 
tive for this purpose the representation of the agreeable 
change of condition must he coupled with, and so 
able to suggest, the representation of an appropiate 
raovenient, or combination of movements. In the case 
given above it would be vain for the child to desire to 
hear the ticking of the watch if experience had not 
further equipped him with a knowledge of the means 
of satisfying his desire. 

With respect to this second element in the simple 
form of conative process here described, little needs to be 
added to what was said in an earlier chapter. Our 
movements form a special class of presentations, to which 
corresponds a special variety of representations or images 
(compare above, p. 117 ff., and p. 241). It may be added 
that in imagining a movement, say that of advancing 
the right arm, we commonly represent not merely the 
muscular experience attending the movement, but its 
immediate visual result, viz., the appearance in the field 
of vision of the moving arm. 

(c) Attention and Voluntary Movement. As has 
been implied in this account of voluntary movement, 
selective attention is an essential part of the procesa 
34 



514 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

It is only because in the state of desire attention is fixed 
on the idea of the desired change, and on the appropriate 
motor representation, that these acquire the stability and 
the force necessary for bringing about the movement. 

We have seen that all attention, just because it is con- 
centrative, is restrictive, that it shuts out or cuts off 
irrelevant presentations and ideas. This restrictive effect 
is very clearly marked in the case of movements. In 
order to carry out a movement precisely and nicely all 
interfering movements must be suppressed or inhibited. 
Thus in learning to point with the index finger a child 
has to suppress the movements of the other fingers which 
are apt to accompany it. 

It may be added that the full representation of a 
movement as described above rarely occurs save in the 
stage of learning to perform movements. We do not first 
distinctly represent a movement and then act, but the 
representative part of the process gets slurred over, so to 
speak, becoming merged in the experience of actually 
performing the movement. 

The effect of desire, when thus guided by the repre- 
sentation of a suitable action, and concentrated on this 
by means of selective attention, is to start the physio- 
logical process in the motor nerves which issues in the 
contraction of the muscles. This actual carrying out of the 
movement becomes in its turn a new experience : after 
desiring and aiming at a result we become conscious actors 
or agents. When viewed in relation to this realised action 
the desire is spoken of as the cause or motive ; and the 
result, so far as represented and aimed at, as the end.'^ 

' The word "end " (Greek reKos) means here not merely that which 
comes last in order of time, but that of which the idea determines the 
movement, and makes it an intelligible action. 



ATTENTION AS FACTOR IN MOVEMENT. 515 

We will now trace out the further development of the 
process involved in voluntary movement. In the present 
chapter we shall be mainly concerned with the gradual 
extension and mastery of the field of movement. The 
growth of the initial element of desire or motive will 
be traced out in the following chapter. 

Improvement of Movement by Exercise. The per- 
fect carrying out of any voluntary movement is the 
result of a series of trials and progressive advances. 
This applies to movements so early acquired as seizing an 
object with the hand. Professor Preyer has shown that 
this simple-looking action was only acquired by his boy in 
the seventeenth week after a series of gradual advances.^ 
We see the same thing in the later acquisitions : witness 
the awkward attempts which preface and lead up to the 
movements of writing, drill-exercises, and the like. In 
this process of gradual self-improvement, we have to 
suppose that each stage reached supplies to the next 
stage new and more fitting modifications of motor repre- 
sentations. 

Progress in gaining command of the organs of move- 
ment depends very much on the inventiveness shown by 
the child in re-adapting acquired movements to new pur- 
poses. Throughout this progressive extension of the 
range of movement there is a double process of separa- 
tion or isolation and of combination. As pointed out 
above, the voluntary execution of a movement implies 
the inhibition of other motor tendencies active at the 
time. The learning to perform such a simple-looking 
movement as pointing with the fore-finger implies a 

1 See his excellent account of the development of this movement, 
The Senses and the Will, p. 241 ff. 



516 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

somewhat difficult process of isolating the extension of 
this finger from that of the other fingers. We see the 
same thing in later acquisitions. In learning to write, a 
child has to check a tendency to other concomitant move- 
ments, such as those of the head, legs, and tongue. 

Not only so, in learning new complex movements old 
associations of motor elements have to be broken through. 
Many manual movements, e.g., that of wringing out a 
towel, involve a dissolution of previous customary com- 
binations. The same thing is illustrated in well-known 
movements of the fingers and two hands needed for 
piano-playing. 

On the other hand, all progress in movement involves 
the ability to put together motor elements in new com- 
binations, that is, to construct motor representations. 
Such simple actions as carrying an object to the mouth 
are acquired by combining the grasping or holding move- 
ment of the fingers with the carrying movement of the 
arm. A specially interesting case of such combination oc- 
curs when the infant carries out simultaneously a differ- 
ent movement with each hand, as in holding a ring to the 
mouth with one hand and plucking a man's beard with 
the other.^ Similarly in learning the later movements of 
writing, a child has to hold the pen in a certain way, and 
to combine a relatively fixed position of the fingers with 
the necessary movements of arm, hand, and fingers. All 
new exercises, such as those of school-drill, of skating, 
bicycling, and so forth, imply a like constructive activity 
in co-ordinating motor elements in new arrangements 
(compare above, p. 277 f.). 

^ Carried out by one child in the thirty-third week (see K. C. 
Moore, Mental Development of a Child, p. 17). 



MASTEKY OF COMPLEX MOVEMENTS. 617 

Imitation, etc. The term imitation is popularly used 
for the copying of any mental trait from another, whether 
a manner of feeling, of thinking, or of acting. In its 
narrower scientific sense the term refers especially to 
movements. By an imitative movement is meant one 
which is called forth in us by the presentation of a like 
movement as performed by another. Thus it is an imita- 
tive action when a child pouts on seeing his nurse pout. 
The common mode of presentation in imitative move- 
ment is visual : we imitate others' movements when we 
see them carried out. In the case^ of certain imitations, 
especially vocal, the visual element, though present (the 
child observes the movements of the mother's lips, 
etc.), is greatly aided by the auditory effect of the 
movement. 

The first attempts at imitative movement, e.g., purs- 
ing of the mouth or pouting, begin, according to Darwin 
and Preyer, about the age of four months. It is not, 
however, till towards the last quarter of the lirst year that 
imitative movements become well marked and frequent. 
From this time onwards imitation is apt to become a sort 
of craze with children. They imitate gestures, e.g., the 
" good-bye " movement of the hand, and any movements 
which produce a lively effect, such as rattling a bunch of 
keys. Later on, in the second year, when the speech-organs 
develop, imitation of vocal sounds plays a prominent 
part in child-life. Other interesting imitations observable 
in the second and third years are those of the manual 
movements of older persons in writing, drawing, and so 
forth. 

Along with these responses to the presentations of 
others' movements there begin to occur imitative repro- 



518 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

ductions of these after they have been presented. Child's 
play is full of such reminiscent imitation of what others 
have been seen to do and heard to say. 

It follows that imitative movements are not instinc- 
tive, but have to be learned. A child is only able to 
imitate another's movement after he has acquired 
from the sources already referred to a certain range of 
motor experience, and has firmly associated the visual 
aspect of a movement with the muscular experience. 
This connection is of course formed in the first instance 
by watching the visual appearance of his own move- 
ments. He then transfers this association to the similar 
appearances which present themselves when another per- 
son moves. In this way the sight of another person 
waving the hand calls up the motor representation of a 
similar movement on his own part, and thus he is 
prompted to carry out this movement. 

As suggested above, imitation has little if anything 
of a purposive character. This is illustrated in such 
actions as yawning or coughing on seeing or hearing 
another carry out the action.^ At the same time 
it is to be noted that a child will only imitate cer- 
tain actions, presumably those which specially interest 
him because they are carried out by certain persons, or 
are odd, or lead to interesting results. It seems probable 
that children enjoy using their organs of movement and 
showing their newly acquired powers. In a good deal 
of childish imitation there is the further pleasure of 
finding out how a thing is done. So far as the love of 

^ Numerous examples of children's imitations are given in Imita- 
tion and Allied Activities, edited by Miss E. M. Haskell (Heath & Co.. 
1896), 



IMITATIVE MOVEMENTS. 519 

activity or curiosity prompts the action it takes on the 
character of a voluntary act. 

Later on the early type of impulsive or non-voluntary 
imitation tends to become more definitely a voluntary 
process. A boy of six or eight will copy the actions 
of another under the influence of a conscious desire to 
iinitate. The prompting motive at work here is not 
always the same. When a boy imitates the bodily feats 
of another boy he is impelled by the wish to display his 
powers, and to show himself equal or superior to an- 
other, i.e., by the motive of ambition and rivalry. In 
other cases the impulse to imitate springs rather out of 
the social feelings, affection and admiration for some 
superior, such as the parent or teacher. 

From this brief account of imitation we can more 
clearly discern the connection between it and sympathy. 
The latter as we saw begins with a kind of contagious 
transmission of the external bodily manifestations of an 
emotional state, e.g., those of hilarity or grief. Here 
imitation of bodily attitude, gesture, intonation of voice, 
and so forth is the starting-point, and helps to set up 
the whole emotional response. It is worth noting that 
there is a reciprocal action of sympathy on imitation. 
A relation of sympathy when fully developed between 
two persons prompts to a mutual adoption of gestures, 
tricks of manner, and, by a more reflective process, 
lines of action. 

The simplest type of imitative movement is a mere 
reproduction by a child of some action that he has 
already acquired independently, as when Preyer's child 
pouted in response to his father's movement. But imita- 
tion is not always of this simple reproductive pattern. 



520 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

Cliildren are wont to copy new forms of movement. 
Thus the infant learns to wave its hand in response to 
tlie action of the mother. This higher form of imitation 
not only presupposes a certain stage of motor experience, 
but facility in modifying this experience by the 
processes of separation and constructive combination 
already referred to. Progress in the great imitative 
field, that of speech, depends on these conditions. 

The impulse to imitate, more especially new and as yet 
unlearned movements, is an important aid to the develop- 
ment of children's voluntary movement. By copying 
others, particularly older children, they widen the fieki 
of their motor action. It is further a valuable auxiliary 
to the learning of useful movements. A child thrown 
with other children who are just able to walk learns the 
necessary movements more quickly than a solitary child 
deprived of this lead. 

Children vary much in the strength of the imitative 
impulse. This is partly connected with unequal degrees 
of vigour in the active organs, to be spoken of pre- 
sently. A more special condition is the degree of intelli- 
gent interest taken in the visual aspects of others' bodily 
movements. Again, the strength of the impulse to 
imitate others will vary much with the emotional 
temperament. Children of a strongly social bent will be 
more interested in observing others' actions, and so more 
likely to imitate them. Deference to older people in 
authority favours imitation of what they do and say. 
In contradistinction to these children, others of a more 
self-assertive and original turn of mind are apt to strike 
out their own lines of action. 

Somewhat similar to the aid rendered bv imitation in 



VARIATIONS OF IMITATIVE IMPULSE. 521 

extendiog the range of movement is that rendered by 
responses to another's command or suggestion, or, as we 
may call it, the verbal initiation of moveinent. As soon 
as a child firmly associates with his several movements 
their descriptive names, as " sitting up," " putting out 
the right foot," and so forth, a mechanism is formed by 
which his movements may be initiated by another. This 
influence is closely analogous to that of example working 
upon the child's imitative impulses : it is an augmenta- 
tion of the range and the number of occasions of 
"movement through the action on the child of social 
stimuli. 

Further Developments of Voluntary Movement. 
The voluntary movements thus acquired by the aid of 
experience and practice, supplemented by imitation and 
social control, undergo certain changes as the result of 
development. A word or two may suffice to indicate the 
principal directions of these changes. 

To begin with, then, as development advances move- 
ment becomes less an immediate response to the sense- 
presentation of the moraent. In other words it 
becomes more independent of present external circum- 
stances and more internal in the mode of its initiation. 
This accords with the general order of mental develop- 
ment, from external sense to internal processes of 
imagination and thought (see above, p. 69). 

A step in the direction of this detachment of move- 
ment from the external circumstances of the moment 
is taken when verbal initiation comes on the scene, for 
when a child carries out a simple action in response to 
the mother's request, the mode of initiation, though in a 
manner external, is no longer the product of the circum- 



522 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

stances of the moment acting directly on the needs of 
the child. A much more important step, however, is 
taken in this gradual detachment when the child's motor 
imagination is developed, and he can readily call up the 
image of this and that movement independently of the 
particular sense-presentations of the moment. Through 
the acquisition of this fuller and freer imaginative 
activity a child becomes capable of carrying out move- 
ments and groups of movements whenever the fancy 
takes him, and from no stronger impulse, perhaps, than 
the love of activity or the wish to show another that 
he can do so. In their self-prompted play children 
show how such inward initiation of movement extends 
as their minds develop. 

Another direction of this motor development requires 
to be pointed out. In the early stages motor representa- 
tions play an important part. In learning to write, for 
example, a child has at each step to represent the next 
movement before carrying it out. Imitation, too, 
obviously involves attention to the motor part of the 
process. In the later stages of voluntary movement 
such distinct representation of movement is no longer 
required. It is enough to fix attention on the image of 
the result of the movement. This transition is clearly 
seen on learning to draw and to write. The first manual 
movements are carried out by help of motor representa- 
tions which have to be distinctly attended to ; as is 
seen when a child first tries to copy the movements of 
the mother or teacher in drawing a head, or in forming 
a letter. Later on, however, the child focusses his atten- 
tion on the image of the visible result of his movements, 
e.g., the oval of the head, the particular form of the 



LATER STAGES OF VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 523 

letter, and the whole process is more and more controlled 
by this idea of the result. 

The progress made in the several stages of this acquisi- 
tion of the command of the organs of movement will 
vary with the active disposition of the child, and with 
the character of his surroundings. Confining our atten- 
tion for the present to the internal conditions, we may 
instance as among the more important : {a) a vigorous 
muscular system, with a corresponding readiness to do 
things, to strike out new experiments, and to persevere 
doggedly through a succession of trials ; (6) a certain 
delicacy of the muscular sense, which favours a fine dis- 
crimination of motor presentations and representations, 
and so a nice execution of the several movements ; and 
(c), closely connected with the last circumstance, a good 
retentiveness for motor presentations, which favours the 
association of them with the passive sense-impressions 
which evoke them, as also with one another in groups, 
and so secures the orderly reproduction of them. 

To these natural aptitudes must be added a strong 
interest in muscular activity and its effects, which 
interest will favour a close concentration of mind on the 
several forms of motor experience. The interest may 
spring largely out of the child's love of muscular 
activity, the delight which the conscious exercise of his 
motor organs brings him. But the attainment of the 
more difficult muscular performances presupposes other 
interests as well, involving the love of power, and the 
closely related feeling of rivalry. Active natures early 
come under the influence of these motives. 

The attainment of a large and firm command of the 
bodily organs is an important preliminary to the growth 



624 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

of the higher volitional processes. All our actions, even 
the lofty moral action of a hero, are carried out by means 
of movements of various kinds. Not only so, the very 
process of acquiring this command of movement implies 
in a rudimentary form the higher volitional processes, 
and more particularly persistence in effort and trial, 
resolution in overcoming difficulties, and practical intelli- 
gence in comparing and choosing between alternatives. 
Anybody who watches an infant, even in the first year, 
trying to combine manual movements, so as to raise or 
to turn over a heavy and unmanageable object, may see 
how in this early and crude form of action the attributes 
of the higher volition begin to manifest themselves. 

Movement and Habit. The term habit may, as we have 
seen, be used in a comprehensive sense so as to refer to all 
recurring modes of mental activity, as when we talk of a 
" habit of thought ". In a narrower and more restricted 
sense, it refers to a principle which especially governs 
the domain of voluntary action (compare above, p. 32). 
We are said to do a thing under the influence of habit 
when we carry out a familiar, oft-repeated action in 
response to some initiating stimulus with scarcely any 
conscious or psychical purpose or any attention to the 
precise form of the action. Examples of such habitual 
actions are to be found in many movements of our daily 
life, such as walking, dressing and undressing. All such 
movements take on something of the mechanical or auto- 
matic character of a reflex action. This is recognised 
in our customary way of speaking of them as " instinc- 
tive," i.e., as resembling the unacquired movements of 
early life. 

As we have seen, every movement tends by repeated 



VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT AND HABIT. 525 

performance to grow easier, iavolving less of close 
attention and conscious effort. This appears to mean, 
first of all, that as the result of repetition there is 
set up a "psycho-physical disposition" to perform the 
particular movement whenever it is suggested, and apart 
from any strong promptings of desire. This fixed dis- 
position shows itself in the promptness of the motor 
response to the slightest stimulus which may chance 
to act. 

In the second place, habit implies a close association 
between a definite motor presentation and a group of 
sense-presentations answering to a special situation or set 
of circumstances. When, for instance, a person on going 
to bed takes out his watch and winds it up " under the 
force of habit," it is the special situation — viz., the act of 
taking the watch out of the watch-pocket, together with 
the visual presentation of the watch — which calls forth 
the movements of winding it up. Habit in its early forms 
is thus a firm linking of movements to external sense- 
presentations. This firm connection has for its organic 
base a co-ordination of the several nerve-centres, sensory 
and motor, which are engaged. 

It is however in the case of series of movements that 
the force of habit is most commonly seen. It is evident 
that in rehearsing any familiar series, such as that of 
walking, of swimming, or of writing a word or a phrase, 
the successive movements, e.g., the alternate lifting of 
each foot from the ground, are not individually at- 
tended to. Each member of the series when executed 
induces its successor, and the whole chain takes on an 
automatic character. Here too we certainly have to do 
with a physiological fact, the formation of a closely 



526 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

organised series of sensory and motor impulses in the 
central nervous organs. 

It is to be observed that in carrying out any such 
firmly organised series of movements a true volitional 
process, viz., a conscious purpose, occurs, if at all, only at 
the outset, or when the mechanical smoothness is inter- 
rupted by a difficulty. Thus in setting out for a walk 
I may distinctly represent and desire the exercise, 
though afterwards the movements may take care of 
themselves save where some difficulty occurs, as in 
having to cross a stile. 

Strength of Habit. Habits, like the contiguous 
associations among our passive ideas, which they closely 
resemble, are of very different degrees of strength. ^ The 
degree of perfection of a habit may be estimated by the 
promptness and the uniformity of the active response to 
stimulus. Thus the soldier's response to an order, as 
" Attention ! " is " mechanically perfect " when it follows 
immediately and in every case. The strength of a habit 
may be estimated in other ways also. It follows from 
the above account of the mechanism of habit that it is a 
tendency to a special kind of action which is physio- 
logically better organised than the actions which are 
accompanied by clear consciousness. Hence, its strength 
may be estimated by the difficulty of controlling and of 
altering it, and further by the amount of discomfort 
which attends its non-fulfilment. Habits which have 
had a long history, especially those of middle age, have 
these characteristics in the highest degree. 

^ The student should compare this account of habit with that given 
above of memory, to which it is so closely akin ; see especially p. 217, 
and p. 223 ff. 



DEVELOPMENT OF MOTOR HABITS. 527 

Formation of Habits. A habit of movement may 
grow up automatically, that is without going through a 
preliminary stage of volitional acquisition. This applies 
to many of the " bodily habits " acquired in early life, 
such as the sucking of the thumb during the first months, 
and many little gestures and other movements induced 
by a semi-conscious process of imitation.^ 

Confining ourselves, however, to habits which are 
started by a truly volitional process, we may see from the 
above account that their formation implies two main 
conditions : (1) an initial volitional process, viz., the 
close concentration of attention involved in learning a 
new movement (or group of movements) ; and (2) a con- 
tinuous and sufficiently prolonged repetition of the move- 
ment on the recurrence of a definite set of circumstances. 
The excellence as a habit of the soldier's response to the 
" word of command " is explained by all the initial effort 
put into the mastering of the action, and by the long- 
continued and unvarying repetition involved in years of 
drill exercise. 

In the early years habits are in the making. Owing 
to the plastic condition of a child's central nervous 
system the building up of a habit is in this period much 
more rapid and less costly than at any subsequent 
period. A more extended process of acquisition, viz., 
a severer initial effort (or rather series of efforts), as well 
as a much longer course of repetition, is needed in 
later years to fix action in- a definite direction. Not 
only so, since the habitual modes of movement ac- 

^ For a good account of the sucking habit, see K, C. Moore, oj). cit., 
p. 12 ff. ; cf. M. Baldwin's account of the development of the habit of 
right-handedness, ov. cit., chap, iv. 



528 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

quired in early life, like the first impressions about 
things, are persistent and difficult to get rid of, the for- 
mation of good habits later on is obstructed by the 
tenacity of the opposed early habits. A child, for ex- 
ample, that has been allowed to adopt an awkward way 
of sitting, or unpleasant tricks of manner, gives special 
difficulty to the educator just because of the process of 
disorganisation, that is, breaking up of organised combina- 
tions, which is involved. 

Fixity and Plasticity of Movement: Habit and 
Adaptive Giiowth. So large a part of our ordinary 
daily life is a recurrence of similar circumstances and 
similar needs that the principle of habit exerts some in- 
fluence in every direction of our activity. Thus the 
actions by which vv^e care for the needs of the body, our 
behaviour before others, and so forth, are properly domi- 
nated by this principle. In this way, by the reduction 
of a difficult action to an easy automatic type, the ner- 
vous energies which are specially used up in the initial 
eifort are economised, and mental activity left free to 
direct itself to other matters. So far, then, as our life- 
circumstances remain unaltered, and similar lines of 
responsive action are required from us, the working of 
habit is a clear gain. 

At the same time human life differs from animal life 
in the greater degree of its complexity and variability. 
It has been pointed out above that the child is not fur- 
nished at the outset with an outfit of " instincts " as the 
lower animals are. The gradual development which the 
child needs in order to cope with the circumstances of 
liuman life consists in a process of successive adaptive 
modifications, issuing in a growing adjustment of the 



HABIT AND ADAPTATION OF MOVEMENT. 629 

individual to these circumstances. While, then, the for- 
mation of habits is an important part of growth, it is 
not the whole. Fixity in definite directions must not 
exclude plasticity and modifiability in others. The com- 
plete and absolute rule of habit marks the arrest of 
development.^ 

While habit, when carried to an extreme, may thus be 
antagonistic to development, the principle of habit, in a 
large sense, enters into the process of development itself. 
It is by perfecting an action so as to carry it out 
readily and with ease that more difficult actions be- 
come possible. This is illustrated in the example of 
habit given by Montaigne of a peasant woman, who, 
having accustomed herself to carry a calf, was able later 
on as the result of this acquisition to carry the animal 
when it grew to be an ox. In learning drill exercises 
a child is at each stage aided by a previous reduction of 
the elementary movements to the form of habits. 

As we saw above, metliods have been devised for testing the carry- 
ing out of simple movements, e.g., a rapid series of taps on an electric 
key (p. 94). These experiments serve, it is evident, to measure the 
voluntary command of movement. When, for example, it is shown 
that a child cannot hold his head so steadily as an adult we must set 
this down to want of a perfect control of the motor organs.''^ Other 
tests of a similar kind can easily be added, as aiming with the in- 
dex finger at a small object, drawing a straight line, repeating a 
new and difiicult series of articulate sounds. 

The Early Training of the Will through the 
Exercise of the Motor Organs. As already observed, 

1 Compare what was said above (p. 73), also Baldwin on " Habit and 
Accommodation," Mental Development, pp. 168, 169. 

2 See an article headed " A Preliminary Study of Motor Ability," by 
J. A. Hancock, in the Fed, Seminary, October, 1894. 

35 



530 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

the child's attainment of the command of his organs of 
movement is greatly promoted by the direction of others. 
No doubt, as Rousseau urged, a boy brought up in the 
country and left much to himself would develop consider- 
able flexibility and precision of movement ; yet it is 
equally certain that he would not reach those complex 
and difficult co-ordinations which are required in the 
civilised life of to-day, such as those of drawing and 
writing. 

The work of training the muscular organs belongs in 
part to what is called Physical Education. The well- 
known effects of muscular exercise in promoting the 
general circulation of the blood and the maintenance of 
bodily heat give it an important place in the educator's 
endeavour to further the health of his pupils. The pro- 
minence assigned to the development of the muscular 
system by kindergarten exercises, gymnastics, and the 
encouragement of out-of-door games, points to the re- 
coo"nition of the dependence of the general health, and, 
along with this, of mental efficiency, on muscular develop- 
ment. 

This physical education in its more elaborate forms, in- 
volving special practice and skill, aims at the attainment 
of a special bodily excellence, viz., the muscular strength, 
quickness of movement and other qualities of the athlete, 
or, as it was conceived of in the old Greek training 
(feebly imitated in our so-called " calisthenics "), a perfect 
and beautiful harmony of bodily movement. 

Viewed from a slightly different point of view this 
training of the organs of movement enters into the 
processes of Intellectual Education. It has long been a 
commonplace of the school that the proper carrying out 



PHYSICAL AND MENTAL TRAINING. 531 

of the articulatory movements involved in reading aloud 
and of the manual movements involved in writing is an 
integral part of the business of learning ; for reading and 
writing are the indispensable channels by wliich in a 
civilised community an individual mind takes in from 
others and gives out to others its knowledge and ideas. 
But the new view of the connection between manual 
movement and intellectual training goes far beyond this. 
We are coming more and more to see that in exercises 
such as drawing, sloyd, and the like, which engage eye 
and hand in the liner processes of reciprocal adjustment, 
the intelligence is wholesomely exercised, that here as in 
the earlier kindergarten occupations the child learns by 
doing. More particularly it is coming — alas, too slowly 
— to be recognised that drawing is for children less a 
fine-art subject than one of the most effective means 
of developing a fine and accurate visual observation 
(compare above, p. 201 f.). 

Another aim which this training of the organs of 
movement sets before itself is the development of a 
general basis of useful action and technical work. 
Although education has not to train in the useful arts, 
it has in exercising a child's hands to seek to make the 
fingers ready and habile, and so to supply in the shape 
of a general muscular skill the necessary foundation 
for any special line of technical training which is to 
follow.^ The occupations of the kindergarten, such as 
paper-folding and the like, develop suppleness of finger 
and ease in carrying out new co-adjustments, and so 
form an elementary stage in the development of mus- 

1 On the value of such general skill, see Llojd Morgan, Psychology for 
Tmchers, p. 67 ft, 



532 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

cular skill, and the sloyd and other exercises of the 
school follow up this aim. 

Finally, it is to be observed that in all these exercises 
of the motor organs we have to do with the child's 
volitions. Movements are in every case the product of 
the child's own conscious impulses, and as such are 
exercises of will. As we have seen, the early growth of 
volition proceeds by way of learning to command the 
orsfans of movement. It is in movement that clear 
purpose and intention first display themselves, and that 
the first experiences of obstacle and the first training in 
steadfastness and patience of effort are reached. All 
practice in doing things, then, whatever its primary 
object may be, is to some extent a strengthening of 
volitional power, and the educator does well to remember 
that in setting these exercises he is, or may become, a 
moral educator, developing in the j^oung learner valuable 
qualities of will. 

In assisting in this early stage of will-development the 
educator should bear in mind what Kousseau so ably 
emphasises, that children are strongly disposed to mus- 
cular activity, and in their self-appointed occupations and 
in their play show that they are capable of making real 
progress in the difficult art of using their motor organs 
without any direct assistance from parent or teacher. 
The young child should from the beginning have ample 
opportunity for freely exercising his active organs, with 
only a general supervision and at most the imposition of 
a few necessary restraints. His nursery and his play- 
ground should be so arranged as to suggest and 
encourage vigorous bodily movement, as well as to direct 
it into definite lines of exercise. The important part 



MORAL ASPECT OF BODILY TRAINING. 533 

played by imitation in the growth of voluntary move- 
ment suggests the advantages of companionship in this 
early stage of education. A child is mightily stimulated 
by the sight of others doing things as yet new to himself, 
and a little fellow of six is much more powerfully acted 
upon by the sight of the achievements of another boy a 
year older than himself than by that of any bigger per- 
formances of the adult. Companionship becomes abso- 
lutely vital in all concerted actions, such as those of many 
social games of the home and kindergarten. Here, not 
only are new pleasurable stimuli supplied to young 
effort, but the social nature is appealed to, and the invalu- 
able quality, readiness and ability to co-operate with 
others, developed. 

The regulative province of the educator in these rudi- 
mentary exercises of the will begins with showing the 
child how to do things. To know when to do this 
requires judgment. It is often better for children them- 
selves to find out the way to do a thing, just as it is 
better for them to discover the i:eason of a fact. Nothing 
is more fatal to the progress of young effort than an 
indolent aversion from trial and experiment. Hence a 
mother who is given to interfering with a child's activity, 
pulling him up, and showing him by a model-action of 
her own (or, worse still, by joining her hand to his) how 
a thing is to be dona, is losing sight of a vital condition 
of all development, viz., self-activity. 

As the child grows his actions become in one direction 
freer, in another more subject to the control of the 
educator. The parent has at an early stage to begin to 
drill the little savage in the proprieties of civilised life, 
bidding him sit at table and hold his spoon in the pre- 



534 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

scribed way, articulate his words in the approved manner 
of educated adults, and so forth. And to this home 
instruction there is added later the more systematic 
training of the school. In the varied muscular activity 
of the kindergarten, the manual exercises of drawing, 
writing, sloyd, and the rest, and the employment of the 
vocal organs in reading and singing, the teacher becomes 
the trainer of the child's muscular powers in various 
lines of orderly constructive activity. 

The object to be aimed at in all such exercises is to 
train the child to the best possible use and management 
of his organs of movement. The ideally perfect action 
is one which is fully adequate to the purpose in hand. 
At the same time it follows Nature's law of economy, 
as this is illustrated in many self- prompted infantile 
actions, especially the invention of manual signs for 
making known wants. The educator should aim from 
the first at perfection in this sense, even in the ap- 
parently trifling actions of everyday life. 

In developing such bodily perfections a number of 
conditions have to be satisfied. It may not be super- 
fluous to remark here that the educator should reflect 
carefully as to what he may wisely insist upon. The 
task assigned, the degree of perfection exacted, must 
not be above the child's powers, so far as these have 
been developed by past exercises. 

In saying this, I do not mean that the child is not to 
be called on to make serious eflbrts. The exercises can, 
indeed, only become a training of the will in so far as 
they are made to call forth such efforts. The child's 
natural inclination to abandon work which requires a 
long-sustained effort should be strenuously opposed and 



METHOD OF BODILY TRAINING. 535 

overcome. And here an appeal to some motive other 
than the mere pleasure of activity will often be needed. 
The educator will need to awaken young ambition to do 
the things done by those a little in advance of him, also 
to arouse the wish to please others, and even something 
of the moral impulse to be brave and conscientious. 

Lastly, since every perfect action takes on something 
of the character of a habit, the educator should through- 
out this early branch of training aim at furthering 
the growth of habits. Hence he should insist on the 
continuity of performance, and other conditions, on which 
habit depends. 

The careful graduation of work according to capability 
may be illustrated by the method of teaching deaf- 
mutes to speak by a process of imitation of seen move- 
ments. The teacher begins with such movements as 
extreme protrusions of the lips (as in uttering the oo 
sound), which are distinctly visible to the child when he 
himself performs them, and so easier of imitation. Only 
after a certain practice of the imitative capability in 
this simple form does he venture to go on to call forth 
the more delicate and hidden movements of the organs of 
articulation which cannot be guided by sight, and have 
to be taught by the aid of the sense of touch. 

EEFEEENCES FOR READING. 

A fuller account of the process and origin of voluntary movement 
may be obtained from the following : A. Bain, The Emotions and the 
Will, "The Will," chaps, i.-iii. ; H. Hoffding, Oiitli^ies of Psychology, 
vii., A ; Sully, The Human Mind, vol. ii., chap. xvii. ; and E. B. 
Titchener, Outline of Psychology, chap. x. 

On the developments of voluntary movement in the first years the 
student may consult : B. Perez, The First Three Ysars of Childhood, 



536 THE CONATIVE FUNCTION. 

chaps, ii. and vii. ; W. Preyer, The Senses and the Will, second 
part ; and G. Compayr6, U Evolution intellectuelle et ynorale de V enfant, 
chap. xii. 

On the educational control of voluntary movement the following may 
be read : P. Radestock, Habit in Education (Isbister) ; G. Compayre, 
Corns de Pidagogie, le(?on xi. ; H. Marion, Lemons de Psychologie, 
leQon iii. and following : and E. Rayot, Legons de Psychologie, le^on 
xvi. An article on " Manual Training " by Sir J. Crichton Browne, 
in the National Bevieio, 1888, will also be found useful. The reader of 
German may compare, further, Th. Waitz, Allgem. Padagogik, § 7 ; F. 
D.ttes, Grundriss, §§ 13 and 14; also the article, " Gewohnung," in 
Rein's Encyclo^. Ilandbuch der Padagogik. 



CHAPTER XX. 

DELIBERATE ACTION : MORAL CHARACTER. 

In the preceding chapter we have traced the steps by which 
a child acquires the command of his organs of movement. 
It was there assumed that advance in voluntary movement 
during the first years of life took place under the stimu- 
lus of the bodily appetites, the desire for simple modes 
of sense-gratification, as well as the love of activity 
and the wish to display one's powers. We shall in the 
present chapter consider the higher developments of the 
volitional process in which new motive forces have their 
part, and in which action becomes more reflective, far- 
reaching in its aim, and what 'we call deliberate. 

These higher developments of volition, which consti- 
tute will in the more restricted sense, are partly the out- 
growth, of that development of the intellectual and 
affective life which we have already traced out, partly the 
result of successive exercises of the volitional function 
itself. We will first examine the effects of the former. 

(A) Effect on Volition of Development of Feel- 
ing AND Desire. In the first place, then, it is clear 
that the expansion of the life of feeling, and especially 
the gradual evolution of the higher and more representa- 
tive emotions, will serve to develop the conative processes. 
As a child acquires more and more of self-respect, of 



538 DELIBEEATE ACTION: MOEAL CHAEACTER. 

the esteem of others' good opinion, of sympathy with 
others and so forth, new and higher desires will be added 
to the earlier ones, and will gain more and more strength. 

(B) Effect of Development of Intellectual 
Power We may now pass to the influence on the life 
of action of the processes of intellectual development, of 
the gradual formation of the ability to represent what is 
absent, to compare one thing with another, and to think. 

To begin with, then, the progress of the intellectual 
life by developing and strengthening the ideational or 
representative powers will allow of a larger range of 
desire. The young child cannot aim at a remote gratifi- 
cation, say the pleasure of winning a prize six months 
hence. The representation of the remote end is not 
vivid and steady enough to direct action into effort for 
something so far off. This same " weakness in futurity " 
is seen in the savage whom some present enjoyment will 
make completely oblivious of a large future reward. A 
child only begins to work for distant results when he is 
able to keep an idea fixed in consciousness for some time. 

Along with this effect of the growth of representation is 
that of comparison and the co-ordination of parts into a 
whple. In order to aim at a distant object a child must 
reflect on the connections of things, and see how present 
action may become a step in a process of gradual attain- 
ment. This implies a certain comparison and unification 
of experience-elements. Thus, in learning to carry out 
any prolonged active effort, e.g., in building a castle 
with bricks or sand, a child has to think out the pro- 
gressive action as a whole, and to set each successive step 
in its right place in the total plaii of action. 

This organisation and unification of action under the 



GEOWTH OF HIGHER VOLITION. 539 

guidance of rational reflection takes on a higher form 
when a series of actions of a like kind is integrated 
by thought into a comrtion tyioe or general rule of action, 
directed to one comprehensive and permanent end. This 
is illustrated when a child goes beyond single attempts 
to obtain his teacher's approving word and begins con- 
sciously to act under the direction of the general rule of 
trying to win and preserve his teacher's approval.^ 

This unification of action according to general rule for 
the attainment of a permanent end involves the co-ordi- 
nation of a series of actions in an orderly progressive 
scheme. The abiding " interests " of life, such as bodily 
strength, knowledge, the good opinion of others, and so 
forth, are ends which only realise themselves progressively. 
Thus we develop bodily strength by proceeding accord- 
ing to a plan, carrying out certain exercises to-day, fol- 
lowing these up by other and more advanced exercises 
to-morrow, and so forth. 

The process of volitional unification is carried a stage 
further when thought or " practical reason " co-ordinates 
these several " interests " as parts of the total individual 
" good ". This involves the exercise of the practical judg- 
ment, and an appreciation of the "objective value" of 
"good" or "end" (compare above, p. 494). 

The final stage in this unification is reached when " my 
good " as a whole is co-ordinated with the end of morality 
or the common good. This grows out of the free accept- 
ance of the moral law as inherently right and good (see 
above, p. 500). 

1 This seems to me to cover what Herbart rather oddly describes as 
the fusing of single will-pictures into a general will-concept, or will 
proper. See Introduction to Eerbart's Education (Felkin), pp. 164, 165. 



540 DELIBERATE ACTION : MORAL CHARACTER. 

As the result of this influence of the growth of feeling 
and of thought upon conation, action takes on the appear- 
ance of a rational act, i.e., one having its '* reason " in 
a reflective purpose. This transition from the early 
type of impulsive to the later type of rational action 
brings in more of the element of calm deliberateness, 
more of the reflective consciousness of self as agent. 

Of all this work of consolidating action and subjecting 
it to rational rule we see only the feeble beginnings 
during the years of childhood. Its fuller development 
belongs to a comparatively late period of youth when 
reason begins to attain to its proper strength and 
dominion. Nevertheless the first unsteady appearance 
of the rational element in children's actions is of deep 
interest. 

(C) Effect of Volitional Exercise. While the de- 
velopment of feeling and thought thus serves to foster 
and develop the higher conative processes, something 
further is needed for their full realisation, viz., ex- 
ercises of the volitional function itself. As we saw in 
the case of movement, volitional growth takes place 
as the result of successive exercises gradually advancing 
in complexity. 

This higher volitional progress implies the effect of suc- 
cessive acts tliemselves in fixing a motive as a conative 
disposition. It is not enough, for example, for a child 
to have a deep affection for his mother : this affection 
must acquire strength and fixity as an active inclination. 
Similarly the subordination of particular actions to a 
general rule of action only becomes perfect as the result 
of a series of acts. This fixing of lines of action through 
the firm establishment of motive-forces involves what 



DEVELOPMENT OF RULING MOTIVES. 541 

Herbart called the " memory of the will ". It is, 
however, as we shall see presently, better described as an 
illustration of the great principle of Habit. 

But this elevation of the later developed motives into 
a position of stability does not proceed in the smooth 
unopposed manner we have been supposing. It is 
through experiences of struggle that each of us rises 
to the calmer heights of rational conduct. We have 
now to examine this process of conflict so as to under- 
stand how a higher type of deliberate action arises out 
of it. 

Conflict and Choice. The appearance of conflict 
on the volitional scene is a result of the expansion of 
the life of feeling and thought. A child becomes the 
subject of a larger number and variety of desires, and as 
he acquires the ability to take in remote as well as near 
objects of desire he will, it is evident, be acted upon 
in this or that situation by a larger number of impulses. 
Take the simple boyish problem of having a half-holiday 
to fill up. The boy with more interests outside his school 
life will in such a situation be the subject of a larger 
number of active impulses than the boy with fewer. 

In certain favourable cases this emergence of a 
plurality of motive-forces may assume the form of a co- 
operation. In the case supposed a boy may want very 
much to look up some friend at a distance, and may also 
be desirous of having the bicycle ride which will take 
him to the spot. A strong disposition to activity, the 
love of doing things for the sake of doing them, often 
combines in this way in early life with the pursuit of 
ulterior ends. 

In this imperfect world, however, it seems to be a 



542 DELIBERATE ACTION : MORAL CHARACTER. 

much commoner experience that the different motives 
which thus come into play together oppose one another, 
and so give rise to what we call conflict of motives. 
Such contlict may arise between motives of the same level 
in the scale of development, or those of different levels. 
An infant whose hands are already engaged holding a 
toy, and impelled to snatch at the new toy presented, say 
his father's beard, illustrates the first. The example of 
the boy who at the same time wants to play truant, and 
doesn't want to lose his marks, illustrates the second. 

Such opposition delays or arrests action instead of ex- 
pediting it, as the co-operation of motives does. Here 
we have a new manifestation of the phenomenon known 
as the inhibition of onovement In the case just 
instanced the thought of the loss of the marks inhibits 
or holds in the impulse to play the truant. 

When rational motives first begin thus to interfere 
with the lower impulses, their restraining influence 
is small. A child, as already observed, is disposed to 
follow out any impulse which leads to immediate gratifi- 
cation. A small boy, when tempted to join other boys in 
some " lark " instead of going to school, will readily be 
carried away by the immediate prospect of exciting 
pleasure. Hence something more is necessary. 

Here is the occasion for the development of a new 
and higher form of conation, viz., what is called an 
"effbrt of will". Under a strong temptation we can 
only effectually resist the seductive influence by resolv- 
ing to pause and to think. And every child has to 
learn how to do this before he acquires what we call 
a rational and firm will. 

When once this initial step has been carried out, there 



REFLECTIVE CHOICE. 543 

comes the process of reflective deliberation, of weighing 
and comparing what is gained and lost by the action. 
This involves the exercise of the practical judgment, 
that is to say, the calm estimation of values. In its 
highest form this exercise of judgment involves a re- 
ference to a large collective idea of "good". 

In certain cases we find it hard to resolve the practical 
problem thus presented to us. We cannot decide as to 
the direction in which the best or the highest good lies. 
In such cases action is paralysed, — unless in the moral 
impasse impulse reasserts its primal violence and carries 
the day. Where, however, reason clearly discerns a 
preponderance of good, where there is a clear pronounce- 
ment, " my highest interest (or my duty) lies in this 
direction," the way is opened for action. We may be 
weak enough not to follow : video meliora proboque, 
deteriora sequor. But where we are courageous and 
adopt the decision of practical reason, identifying our- 
selves with it, we are said to carry out a rational 
choice. Such an act of reflective choice is the highest 
development of the volitional process. It is commonly 
regarded as the manifestation of our " free-will ". 

The ability thus to check impulse and carry out a 
process of calm deliberation and choice is the character- 
istic of a matured will. The acquisition of the ability is a 
slow process, which only begins in the first years of life, 
and which involves a good deal of self-discipline. Hence 
in this early period we find that the conflict is apt to 
resolve itself by the more violent impulse working itself 
out, or by a despairing abandonment of the problem 
of deciding. 

What is needed for the attainment of the calmer and 



544 DELIBEKATE ACTION : MORAL CHARACTER. 

more rational type of volition is, first of all, the disposition 
to arrest the forces of impulse, to pause before acting. 
Such a disposition is acquired slowly under the teachings 
of experience, viz., the bad effects which often result from 
hasty action. The minds of some children are specially 
retentive of such evil effects, and so acquire a certain 
cautiousness in action. In the second place, the child's 
practical intelligence needs to be exercised and strengthened 
so that he may gradually acquire readiness in comparing 
actions, and judging with respect to their wisdom and 
Tightness. Lastly, the development of the higher feelings, 
all that we mean by moral culture, is needed in order 
that a child may come instantly to adopt the decision of 
practical reason, and choose the right and reasonable 
course of action. 

Resolution and Perseverance. One further out- 
come of this higher .volitional development is what is 
commonly known as " resolution " or determination in its 
higher degrees. This term implies the jexistence of a re- 
solve to do something before the moment for carrying out 
the purpose arrives. The formation of a resolve involves 
reflection beforehand, and so a more distinct preparation 
for action. Thus a child that resolves to confess some 
fault to his mother has to look forward to a future set of 
circumstances, the next meeting with the mother, and to 
adopt beforehand a readiness to carry out the action. 
The maintaining of the attitude of resolution up to 
the right moment for action implies further a high 
degree of fixity and steadiness in the process of atten- 
tion. 

All the more difficult and prolonged processes of action 
involve something of this fixity of attitude. Before a 



RESOLUTION AND OBSTINACY. 645 

child can steadily pursue an end through a series of 
co-adjusted actions, e.g., in learning his lesson, he must 
be. able to maintain firmly in consciousness the idea of 
this end. This stability of the idea of end is seen in all 
'perseverance in action. 

While the power of deliberating and choosing gives to 
will its reasonableness, that of abiding by our decisions 
and persevering in our line of action gives to it its firmness 
or stability. Children are in general wanting in such firm- 
ness, just as they are wanting in stability and consistency 
of feeling and judgment. 

It is important to distinguish the firmness of purpose 
and the stability of will here referred to from obstinacy. 
They appear to resemble one another inasmuch as each 
manifests itself in independent self-assertion, in resistance 
to the pressure of another will. Yet the resemblance is 
smaller than it looks. Without going so far as Herbart 
and saying that the obstinate self-will of a child is really 
absence of will, one may say that it differs from en- 
lightened firmness in so far as it rests on no basis of 
rational conviction, and presupposes no process of re- 
flective decision. Self-will is, however, often more than 
this, implying an intelligent self -consciousness and a 
legitimate claim to choose one's ends. And even foolish 
obstinacy in a child may rest on a firm persuasion of " I 
know best ".^ 

Self-Control. The exercise of reflection and rational 
choice just described leads on to what is called Self- 
control. By this is meant the development of rational 
motives as restraining and regulative principles. A 
child reaches the stage of self-control or self-government 

1 Compare Mrs. Bryant, Educational Ends, p. 21. 
36 



546 DELIBERATE ACTION: MORAL CHARACTER. 

when he can reflectively check and restrain the lower 
conative forces, or direct them to new and higher ends 
than they naturally follow. 

Control is often spoken of as if it were merely inhibi- 
tory or restraining. No doubt this is the more striking 
aspect of it. When we talk of controlling passion we 
think lirst of mastering and subduing its force. But, 
strictly speaking, all control has a positive or directive, 
as well as a negative or repressive, aspect. Perfect 
control of the feelings means a rational direction of 
them towards worthy objects. 

(a) Control of Conative Forces. The form of this 
control which first needs to be considered is directed to 
the due regulation of the several conative forces, and 
more particularly the lower and " natural " impulses. 
It shows a series of progressive stages corresponding to 
the stages in the evolution of rational conation already 
described. Thus a child learns first to control a strong 
impulse to snatch at a present pleasure by reference to 
some distant suftering ; and later on to subject single 
desires to comprehensive and permanent aims or "in- 
terests ". 

Throughout this process there is at once inhibition and 
direction of the lower by the higher. The " natural im- 
pulses " are not crushed out of existence, they are trans- 
formed by rational reflection and so directed in the form 
of motives to what is recognised as having value. 

(b) Control of the Feelings. We may now pass to 
a second and no less important direction of the process 
of control, viz., the controlling action of rational volition 
on the Feelings. 

As we have seen, feeling in all its more intense forms 



PROCESSES OF SELF-CONTEOL. 647 

Jmniediately gives rise to, and takes on its character- 
istic embodiment from, certain bodily changes, including 
movements of the " voluntai^y " muscles, such as those of 
the limbs and the vocal apparatus. Hence the control of 
feeling may begin by a control of the impulses to move- 
ment. For example, in checking the force of angry 
passion a child has first to learn to inhibit the bodily 
movements which give vent to it. Since, moreover, an 
emotional state and its bodily accompaniments are organi- 
cally united and form parts of one total experience, it 
follows that this arrest of movement will tend to some 
extent to allay the force of the emotional excitement. 

What may be the exact effect on the feeling itself of 
this restraint of muscular movement depends partly on 
the hold which the feeling has acquired on the mind, 
and partly on the temperament of the child. There are 
children who, even when outwardly calm, brood on their 
terrors, their injuries and so forth. Hence the need of 
the supplementary means of restraining feeling to be 
spoken of presently. 

The due control of the feelings has a high moral sig- 
nificance. In what is called good-breeding there is in- 
volved a considerable amount of emotional self-restraint. 
The higher moral quality of considerateness implies a 
wider and more vigilant self-control, viz., the repressing 
of every sign of feeling that would offend others. In 
another direction, the moral qualities, endurance and 
courage, include the ability to check the manifestations 
both of actual suffering and of the disturbing action of fear. 

Lastly, it may be observed that here, as in the case of 
the lower conative forces, control is not merely re- 
pressive. A perfect regulation of the life of feeling by 



548 DELIBEEATE ACTION: MOEAL CHAKACTER. 

volition includes the positive encouragement of good or 
worthy feeling. This applies, for example, to the keeping 
up of a cheerful, happy state of mind. As Dr. Johnson 
pithily remarked, " Vivacity is much an art, and depends 
greatly on habit ". It applies also to the deliberate cul- 
tivation of kind feeling, reverence and the like. Such a 
positive fostering of feeling may be furthered to some 
extent by adopting the characteristic bodily manifesta- 
tion, though as we shall presently see it depends mainly 
on the maintenance of certain ideas. 

The acquisition of the power of controlling feeling is 
a difficult and slow process. Children's emotional states 
are characterised by their great intensity, and their com- 
plete possession and mastery of the mind. Hence the 
effort to check the outgoings of passion is a severe one. 
It is to be remembered too that tlie motives which 
prompt to such efforts of self-control, e.g., a regard for 
our own comfort, and the sense of what is seemly and 
right, are late in their development. 

(c) Control of the Thoughts. There remains one 
other region of our mental life, viz., the intellectual pro- 
cesses. This too calls for the regulative action of the 
will. As was pointed out above, apart from volitional 
control a child's attention is drawn hither and thither 
according to the play of external excitants and the par- 
ticular ideas which are called up by the forces of sug- 
gestion. The control of the intellectual processes means 
working against these chance influences with a view to 
concentrate attention on something which we specially 
wish to consider. This has been fully illustrated in 
deahng with the processes of sense-observation, recollec- 
tion, imagination, and thought. 



CONTROL OF FEELING AND THOUGHT. 549 

As we have seen, this control of the thoughts is at 
once inhibitory and augmentative. A child in concen- 
trating his attention has at once to shut out irrelevant 
impressions and ideas, and to focus his mental energies 
on that which demands consideration. 

At first such control is difficult and involves an effort 
of will. The motive to such volitional effort is the desire 
to give greater precision and vividness to certain in- 
tellectual elements, and to realise in consciousness their 
full suggestiveness. That is to say, the motive is the 
intelle'ctual desire to advance knowledge. Hence it is 
only as this motive acquires strength and fixedness that 
volitional concentration becomes habitual. 

Connections between Different Forms of Self- 
CoNTROL. It has already been implied that the three 
directions of control just dealt with are closely connected 
one with another. More particularly we may say that 
the control of the thoughts is involved in that of the 
feelings, and that the control both of the feelings and 
of the thoughts is involved in that of impulse and action. 
A word or two may suffice to make this clear. 

(1) As we have seen above (p. 408), feeling is organi- 
cally connected with presentation, and the more complex 
states of feeling depend upon some mode of intellectual 
activity, such as the perception of something alarming, or 
the idea of some injury to ourselves. Hence, to exercise 
control over the perceptions and ideas is clearly one 
mode of regulating the feelings. It was pointed out 
just now that we can only very imperfectly repress a 
state of emotional excitement by checking the accom- 
panying movements. The only thoroughly efficient way 
of reaching and mastering the force of feeling is by 



550 DELIBERATE ACTION : MORAL CHARACTER. 

drawing off the thoughts from its exciting cause. Thus 
a child's feeling of disappointment is only fully brought 
under control when he is able voluntarily to turn his 
thoughts in some other direction. 

In like manner, if we desire to bring on a certain state 
of feeling, the most efficient means at our disposal is the 
inducing and keeping before the mind of certain presenta- 
tions or ideas. Thus we cultivate aesthetic admiration by 
deliberately seeking out aspects of nature and works of 
art which are fitted to excite it ; we deliberately bring 
on a relenting and forgiving temper by dwelling on the 
ideas which are fitted to awaken kindly feeling. 

(2) Again, since feeling and representative thought 
are both involved in volition, the perfect control of the 
domain of action includes the other forms of control. 
The impulse to act unkindly is only completely over- 
come when the feeling of anger out of which it springs 
is repressed, and the remembrance of the injury which 
excites the feeling banished from the mind. Hence the 
importance assigned by moralists to the control of the 
desires and thoughts " of the heart ". 

The same holds good with the positive side of this 
regulation. If I am disinclined to do something, I may 
overcome my indolence by dwelling on the idea of the 
action and calling up a representation of some resulting 
gratification. 

The most important outcome of this slight examination of the pro- 
cesses of control is that all coyitrol is ultimately control of the attention. 
As we have seen, the volitional process is always at bottom a process 
of purposeful attention. It is by fixing attention on certain motor 
ideas that we bring about what is called voluntary movement. And it 
is by regulating the directions of our attention according to the special 
aims of the moment that we carry out those more complex processoa 



UNITY OF SELF-CONTROL. 651 

which we call control. Whether I am trying to control some move- 
ment, some feeling, or some intellectual process, I only effect a result 
by volitionally interfering with and altering the natural or spon- 
taneous " movements of attention ". 

The exercise of these several forms of control, which is 
distinctive of the higher levels of human action, is acquired 
but slowly. Physiology helps to explain this fact in part 
by suggesting that the " Centres of Control " in the brain 
— which are presumably those of volitional attention — 
are the latest to be developed. 

Habit and Control. The higher volitional processes 
come under the same principle of habit which we have 
seen illustrated in the lower region of voluntary move- 
ment. A deliberate or fully considered act and an act 
of self-control only attain to a perfect form when they 
become fixed by the law of habit. That is to say, they 
tend to grow easy and "natural" with continuous re- 
petition. 

At first the child when " pulled up " by an appre- 
hension of the evil consequences of a proposed action is 
apt to be overpowered by the contending impulses, and 
so incapable of a rational decision. But after he has 
once succeeded in making the required effort he will find 
the second attempt somewhat easier because of the pre- 
vious exertion} Every new exercise makes the pause, 
the consideration, the final calm decision a less arduous 
exertion. The whole process grows smoother, involving 

^ Herbart seems to question this. Basing the action of the educa- 
tion of the will on a " memory of the will," he supposes that children 
fail to follow up their effort because they lack this memory. But 
practice tells here not so much by way of a conscious memorj' as by 
setting up a ^psyclio -physical disposition, a factor of which Herbart 
takes no account. 



652 DELIBEEATE ACTION: MOEAL CHAEACTEE. 

less and less of the friction of effort, till as a final re- 
sult reflection and deliberate choice become easy and 
** natural," taking on something of the automatic charac- 
ter of a " habit ". And this involves the setting up of 
a psycho-physical disposition. 

Moral Habits. The same principle of habit has 
further and yet more striking results in the fixing of the 
several forms of control. The subordination of a lower 
impulse to a higher motive, which at the outset involves 
a painful effort of arrest and reflection, tends by repeti- 
tion of the exertion to grow less and less difficult and 
irksome. Every time a child restrains his greed from 
a consideration of its evil effects on himself or others 
he helps to fix action in this particular line. That is 
to say, through repeated exertions the higher moral 
force gains ground as a ruling disposition, and en- 
counters less and less resistance. The outcome of this 
process of growth is what Aristotle called a perfect vir- 
tuous habit, such as a fixed disposition to care for health 
or to speak the truth. 

The conditions of the formation of habits already 
pointed out have to be satisfied here. The initial effort 
must be secured by a strength of motive sufficient to 
overcome the difficulty of the action and the disinclina- 
tion to what is irksome. Not only so, there must be 
perseverance and an uninterrupted following up of the 
first success till the principle of habit clenches the pro- 
cess of moral acquisition. 

Character. The term " character " (literally, " a dis- 
tinctive mark ") is often used loosely to denote distinctive 
individual peculiarities, whether showing themselves at 
the outset as strongly marked congenital tendencies, or 



CHAEACTER. 553 

later as in part the result of experience and education. 
In a narrower and more accurate sense it is marked off 
from the group of congenital individual peculiarities 
(which is better named idiosyncrasy), and signifies de- 
veloped individuality, that is, the group of natural ten- 
dencies so far as these have become selected, strengthened, 
and fixed by the action of circumstances, by education 
and by the individual's own efforts. Fixity or permanence 
of quality, as distinguished from changefulness and 
capriciousness, seems to be of the essence of "character". 

While all mental peculiarities are elements of charac- 
ter, we see a tendency to give prominence in the concept 
" character " to what is peculiar and " characteristic " in 
modes of feeling and acting, and in modes of thinking 
only so far as they affect action. We thus see that the 
word has a special reference to the volitional processes. 
An odd character is one who acts from odd motives, has 
odd habits, follows out in action odd fancies. In this 
narrower and more precise sense "character" means fixed 
volitional dispositions (together with fixed emotive and 
intellectual tendencies corresponding to these), which 
are the result of development and education (including 
self -education). 

While the word " character " has at its root a reference 
to individual differences, it has come to connote certain 
typical resemblances among individual characters. We 
may mark ofi* this use of the word by the more precise 
expression type of character. Thus we speak of a good, 
of a gentle character, and so forth. 

The tendencies here briefly indicated are clearly seen 
in the current ethical and educational use of the word. 
What is meant by a good or a moral character is an 



554 DELIBEEATE ACTION : MORAL CHARACTER. 

acquired and fixed condition of the will, and of the 
feelings and thoughts so far as this is involved in the 
first. It is thus, as Aristotle long since pointed out, 
the product of the individual's own exertions. And it 
is common or typical since it indicates a group of quali- 
ties which we expect all normal and properly educated 
individuals to manifest. 

This moral or virtuous type of character has for its 
mental constituents the several forms of self-control 
carried to the point of perfect habits. Thus a perfect moral 
character includes the fixed dispositions involved in a 
wise pursuit of individual good, or " prudence," such as 
industry, orderliness, "temperance"; further, the habitual 
control of the feelings, or moderation of feeling, and that 
firm control of the thoughts which is at the basis of 
reasonableness. It includes further a fixing of the special 
dispositions answering to the several virtues, and implied 
in a perfect fulfilment of human duty, such as courage, 
veracity, justice and beneficence. It is the work of 
Ethical Science to construct methodically the ideal moral 
character. 

It is commonly said that moral character is a bundle 
of habits or fixed dispositions answering to the several 
parts of virtue. This is an important definition, so far as 
it brings out the essential ingredient of character, fixity 
of volitional disposition in right directions. At the same 
time it must not be thought that a perfect character 
shows itself in a habitual and half -mechanical pursuance 
of a number of detached ends or forms of good. Self- 
control is essentially control of attention, and so includes 
conscious reflection and the disposition to reflect. A per- 
fect character is one which is reflectively intelligent in 



CHAEACTEE AND HABIT. 555 

the sense that it strives to co-ordinate each of its aims 
under a general conception of good which it makes 
supreme, and is ready, where new circumstances arise 
and the Kne of right action is not at once apparent, to 
pause and reflect. As Mrs. Bryant says : " Virtue can 
never become a sum of habits, and for this plain reason : 
there is not a single good habit except the habit of being 
good (i.e., of a good will) that may not conflict with real 
duty at some point or other "} 

It follows from this fact of the supremacy in a good character of 
m.oral reflection over the particular virtuous habits that character is 
never rigidly fixed. Habit, when carried to an extreme, involves, as 
we saw above, the arrest of the developmental process in a cer- 
tain direction. Now a virtuous character aims at an ideal of a worthy 
personality which is never fully realised. Nay, more, it is continually 
modifying its ideal as the result of new moral experiences, new assimi- 
lations of the results of others' experiences and thought, and new in- 
dividual reflection. As George Eliot and others have taught us, duty, 
as expounded in the school, is a mere rough scheme which each of us 
has to fill out for himself in the pauses of the struggle of life. It is 
our own experiences, observations of life, and thought which instruct 
us as to the particular lines of activity in which we may best give 
effect to the commands of justice, veracity and benevolence; and as 
to the relative values of this and that constituent of good conduct ; 
and this process of ethical self- education, this work of giving a definite 
form and a rich yet ordered variety of content to the conception of 
the virtuous life, may go on as long as we continue to live consciously 
and fully. 

Eaely Manifestations of the Higher Volition. 
Although the more complex processes of volitional de- 
velopment traced out in this chapter belong to the later 
period of youth and manhood, we may detect the crude 
beginnings of them in the first years. Even a young 
child will spontaneously show a tendency to pause and 
^ See her work, Educational Ends, p. 21. 



556 DELIBERATE ACTION: MOEAL CHARACTER. 

reflect before he acts. Similarly, he will spontaneously 
{i.e., without any immediate command or suggestion 
from another) make an effort to control his feeling of 
misery. With respect to moral action, we must do him 
the justice to recognise that impulses in the direction of 
right conduct appear from an early date, such as those 
of kindness, helpfulness and so forth (compare above, 
pp. 458, 464).i 

Yet, even when allowing for the great differences among 
children, we must say that in general these manifesta- 
tions of the higher will are feeble and sporadic only. We 
do not look in young children for steady, fixed purpose, 
for the essential constituents of moral character. Their 
impulses are capricious and unsteady : a good one being 
readily displaced by one that we regard as bad. So far 
from being morally an organised unity or personality, the 
child seems rather to be a bundle of impulses and ten- 
dencies, a number of alternating, and but half-formed 
selves. 

EDUCATION OF WILL AND CHARACTER. 

The acquisition by the individual of the higher 
volitional processes and of moral character is greatly 
furthered by the action of others. In truth, the action 
of the social environment on the growing mind of the 
child is still more manifest in the case of moral than of 
intellectual development. The very idea of a morally 
good will implies the discipline supplied by a community 
which has a system of morality. 

This moral action of the community on the individual 
works at first through the medium of those who exercise 

' These spontaneous tendencies towards good conduct are illustrated 
in my Studies of Childhood, chaps, vii. and viii. 



EDUCATIONAL CONTEOL OF CHILD's WILL. 557 

authority during the early years. As we -saw in tracing 
the growth of the moral sentiment, the influence of 
authorit}^ and of moral discipline is a necessary con- 
dition in the formation of that sense of duty, the 
supremacy of which marks the highest stage of self- 
control. 

The training of the child's will to fixed and worthy 
lines of action proceeds partly by way of the early 
government of the home and the school, and the system 
of rules which this implies. We have now to examine 
the mode of action of this government on the develop- 
ment of the child's will and character. 

The Ends of Early Government. By government 
is meant the exercise of control over the actions of 
others by a superior, that is to say, one invested with 
authority and able to promulgate and enforce commands. 
The government of the young is differentiated from that 
of adults — as illustrated in civil and military govern- 
ment — by its special aims and by the special conditions 
under which it is carried on. 

It is commonly allowed that children require to be 
placed under some amount of governmental control. It 
belongs to the condition of childhood, with its want of 
knowledge and ability to act for itself, that the ex- 
perience and c/iaracter of the adult should decide to 
some extent the lines of its action, and should impose these 
decisions by way of positive command and prohibition. 
Here, it is evident, the end of government is in part to 
protect the child against the evil physical effects of his 
own action. To leave a " wee mite " of four or six 
altogether to the " discipline of consequences," in the 
shape of nature s penalties for violating her laws, would 



558 DELIBEEATE ACTION: MORAL CHARACTER. 

be too dangerous an experiment for any one who really 
cares for children. A child's actions have further to 
be restrained because they are likely to annoy or injure 
others. No parent can allow a child to strike another 
child as he might often like to do, or even to take play- 
ful liberties with a visitor's pockets. 

But the institution of early government has other ends 
and uses. It is fitted, where properly organised and 
judiciously carried out, to supply a certain moral train- 
ing. It aims from the first at directing young impulse 
into right channels, and at developing habits of good 
conduct. In other words, it has a valuable disciplinary 
function. 

That some control of the child's actions by his elders 
is necessary for moral purposes will probably be con- 
ceded. The most optimistic view of childish nature 
must recognise the existence of natural impulses, e.g., 
greediness and covetousness, which require firm restrain- 
ing. Nor can it be safely contended that the natural 
consequences of wrong actions in the loss of the parent's 
society and confidence can always be counted on in the 
first years of life to deter from such actions. Even 
were such natural penalties sufiicient to deter the child, 
it is very doubtful whether they would ever bring 
him to a consciousness of the binding nature of duty. 

Our concern here is merely with the moral function 
of early government. We shall seek to determine the 
main conditions which make the government of the 
parent and the teacher an instrument of moral discipline, 
or, as we may call it, a good or disciplinary government. 

Conditions of a Good Government. In order that 
the governmental control of children's action may be 



CHAEACTEEISTICS OF GOOD GOVEENMENT. 559 

morally educative it must exhibit certain features. The 
more conspicuous and dominant these features are made, 
the higher will be the moral value of the government. 

To begin with, then, a good mode of government must 
proceed hy appealing to the child's will. Mere physical 
compulsion, as when a nurse supposes she is getting a 
child to walk by dragging it, is not government in the 
sense here meant. Nor are those modes of exercising 
the " superior will " which resemble physical compulsion, 
viz., coercion by threat of immediate suffering, as seen in 
the brutal government of the slave-driver and the coarser 
forms of military government, to be considered here. 
Further, the restraining of the actions in the first year 
by singular commands and prohibitions, as, " Do this 
at once ! " " Stop that ! " may be left out of consideration 
as not belonging to the mode of government proper to 
an intelligent subject. 

Early government becomes disciplinary and acts 
developmentally on the young will as soon as it begins 
to promulgate general coraonands. The difference be- 
tween proceeding by saying, " Do this ! " " Don't do 
that I " and by saying, " Be a good boy ! " " Don't be a 
naughty boy 1 " consists in this, that in the latter case 
the governor introduces a general principle or rule of 
action, and so acts upon the primal chaos of capricious 
and isolated impulses by developing orderliness of action 
and stability of purpose. 

Again, the educational value of any system of govern- 
mental rules will depend to some extent on a judicious 
admixture of positive commands and prohibitions. In 
one sense prohibition is the most fundamental need of 
early government : an inexperienced child must be re- 



560 DELIBERATE ACTION: MORAL CHARACTER. 

strained from dangerous and mischievous actions. It 
has been suggested, too, e.g., by Miss Edgeworth, that 
prohibitions are often more easily enforced than positive 
commands ; but this seems to apply to that earlier form 
of control which, not being able to work by way of a 
child's intelligence, is nearer to physical compulsion.^ 
It is an undoubted fact that as soon as a child develops 
intelligence a prohibition acts irritatingly by opposing 
itself directly to his love of activity and liberty, whereas 
a positive command ma}^ recommend itself by suggesting 
an agreeable line of activity, and in any case does not 
oppose itself so sharply and irritatingly to the love of 
liberty (save indirectly in so far as it requires the child 
not to do something else). 

Another point closely connected with this is that both 
command and prohibition act upon the child's mind by 
way of suggestion, that is to say, the setting up of a 
fixed idea which tends, quite apart from volition, to work 
itself out into action. This force of suggestion is seen in 
its more impressive forms in the case of the hypnotised 
subject who is made to do something, e.g., drink some 
unpleasant liquid by being told that it is wine. Yet the 
same principle is at work in the case of children. Now, a 
command clearly suggests the particular action which is 
desired, whereas a prohibition suggests quite as certainly 
the forbidden action. This is illustrated in an ingenious 
mode of advertisement I once saw used in a London 
street. A " sandwich man " was carrying two boards, on 
the front one of which were printed the words, " Don't 
look at my back ! " where of course the advertisement to 
be looked at was to be found. This tendency is an 
^ See Miss Edgeworth's Practical Education, chap. ix. 



COMMANDS AND PEOHIBITIONS. 561 

example of what Professor Mark Baldwin calls " con- 
trary suggestion ".^ 

The great reason, however, for making the positive 
element more prominent than the negative and inhibi- 
tory is that while the latter tends merely to check action 
the former works developmentally and constructively 
by calling out lines of worthy action. The highest 
moral use of this early form of government is seen in 
bringing a child to follow out habitually those directions 
of action which constitute good conduct, such as personal 
cleanliness, orderliness of behaviour, and industry. 

The educative value of rules depends further on the 
way in which they are selected and enforced. It is only 
too easy, as Locke and others remind us, to multiply 
rules to an injurious excess. After all, government is 
restraint, and a child with his intense love of activity 
and his strong preference for initiating his activities for 
himself, may be led by the oppressive character of the 
rules enforced to oppose himself to them, and so to make 
them morally injurious rather than beneficial. A like effect 
follows when a rule looks needless and capricious, or 
when it is unintelligently expressed so that its meaning 
is dark. Mucli the same kind of remark applies to the 
mode of enforcement. Where the parent or teacher 
appears not to respect the rule as of universal obligation 
but to be partial and capricious in enforcing it, or, on 
the other hand, to be stupidly wanting in discriminating 

^ See his Mental Development, p. 145 f. ; cf. my Studies of Childhood, 
p. 294, also Perez, First Three Years of Childhood, p. 108. The import- 
ance of suggestion as an educational principle has been recognised by a 
number of recent writers. See especially, J. M. Guyau, Education and 
Heredity, chap. i. 
37 



662 DELIBERATE ACTION : MORAL CHARACTER. 

cases which properly fall under it from those which do 
not, the good effect is lost, and the mode of government 
becomes immoral rather than moral. 

Instruments of Early Government : Punishment 
AND Reward. We may now examine the effect of the 
agencies by which the government of children is com- 
monly enforced. Here the imposition of punishment, 
which seems to be most closely connected with the exist- 
ence of an authority which issues commands, comes in 
for our first consideration. 

Punishment may be briefly defined as the intentional 
infliction of pain of soroe kind as the consequence of an 
act of disobedience. The pain may be physical, as that 
of corporal punishment, and, in a measure, that of con- 
finement, or it may involve a higher sensibility, such 
as loss of a good position and disgrace. 

This definition is meant to exclude what are sometimes 
spoken of rather figuratively as " natural penalties," such 
as the physical evils consequent on intemperance. It ex- 
cludes, too, the pains inflicted by nurses and parents by 
way of slaps on single actions of the child not ante- 
cedently forbidden. 

Punishment has a twofold outlook, viz., on the mainte- 
nance of an orderly community and on the improvement of 
the individual child. The first or deterrent function is 
more prominent in the punishments inflicted on adults, 
for example, by magistrates and military authorities. It 
enters into the government of children in so far as these 
compose a closely organised band, having its definite 
work, and needing stringent uniformity of behaviour. 
Thus in a school the exigencies of maintaining order and 
carrying on the work of the class compel the authority 



FUNCTION OF PUNISHMENT. 563 

to use punishment as a general deterrent. For the rest 
the punishments used by parent and teacher alike have, 
or should have, as their chief use the second and correc- 
tive function} 

In order that punishment may be made an instrument 
of moral education, certain conditions must be satisfied. 

To begin with, all punishment looked at from one 
point of view is an evil. It is an infliction of pain, and 
pain, as such, and without reference to its results, is an 
evil. Moreover it tends, primarily, to produce certain 
evil results. Thus it is apt, at first at least, to divide 
the parent or teacher and the child, and so to in- 
terfere with that sympathetic rapport which is at the 
basis of Education. It is, further, in many of its forms 
at any rate, humiliating by reason of its degrading aspect, 
bringing home to the child the superior power of the 
adult " giant " in a way that excites hatred and the spirit 
of revolt. 

It may be added that punishment at its best has only 
a limited range of action. In itself as a form of pain 
it is inhibitory rather than stimulative and educative ; 
and even when it is intended to be stimulative, as in 
punishing for not doing an allotted task, the fear of 
it will never rouse a child's exertion beyond the point 
exacted. 

The justification of punishment as a disciplinary or 
educative measure, in spite of these drawbacks, rests 

^ These words " deterrent " and " corrective " do not exactly repre- 
sent the difference implied, since a corrective punishment acts de- 
terringly on the individual, and on the other hand a punishment may 
he inflicted for the maintenance of order which is corrective of a 
general or widespread tendency to disobedience. 



564 DELIBEBATE ACTION: MOEAL CHARACTER. 

on the conviction that it may be made to bring home 
to a little culprit in a peculiarly vivid manner the 
seriousness and heinousness of his wrongdoing, and 
so act correctively on his faulty disposition. Accord- 
ing to this proper view, punishment is not merely 
the introduction into the sphere of the child's action of 
the deterrent function of pain (which natural conse- 
quences might also introduce) but the strong expression 
on the part of the enlightened will of a determination 
to respect the moral law and to resist and put down 
disrespect of it and disobedience to its commands. As 
we know, when viewed in this light by the young 
offender, and accepted as just, so far from being re- 
sented and breeding animosity, it may deepen his respect 
for the person placed in authority over him. 

This view of punishment at once suggests that it must 
be administered with great care and discrimination. To 
begin with, it ought not to be made use of save where 
the action clearly indicates more than ordinary thought- 
lessness, viz., a disposition to disobey rule. Even here 
it should be looked on, as war is said to be looked 
upon by kings, as an ultima ratio, and only resorted 
to when other means — such as talking to a child and 
pointing out his fault, getting at the source of it and 
acting amelioratively on the child's external circumstances 
— have been exhausted. Hence punishment should not 
in general be inflicted for single acts of wrongdoing, 
but only for such repeated acts as indicate a fixed de- 
termination to disobey. Even then we are not justi- 
fied in punishing unless we have a reasonable prospect of 
acting eftectively and beneficially on the young will. 
And here we need a wide experience of child-nature in 



WISE AND UNWISE PUNISHMENT. 565 

general as well as intimate knowledge of the individual 
child we are dealing with. 

When we have satisfied ourselves that it is a proper 
case for punishment, something remains to be done in 
selecting the right amount and the suitable form of 
penalty. What is meant by a " sense of justice " in the 
educator shows itself in a peculiarly impressive manner 
in what has been called " proportioning punishment to 
oiFence ". Here a fine sense of ethical values is needed, 
so that the seriousness of the offence may be adequately 
represented by the punishment. But this is not all. We 
cannot in dealing with children as with adults attach 
beforehand definite penalties to certain offences in all 
cases. Punishment as inflicted on the young is eminently 
a matter of adjustment to individual cases, to differences 
of character and sensibility, as well as of circumstances. 

As to tlae form of punishment to be selected, Bentham and others 
have pointed out that it is well to select those modes which lend them- 
selves to quantitative gradation, and are little affected by differences of 
individual sensibility. Judged in this way, confinement and hard 
work are better than corporal punishment. Where a mode of punish- 
ment may be seen by the child to have a natural connection with the 
act of disobedience, or, as Bentham has it, where the punishment is 
" characteristical " — as where idleness and neglect of school-work are 
punished by confinement during play-hours — it may be well to adopt 
it by preference if only to show the child as early as possible that 
punishment is not an arbitrary institution.^ But these general con- 
siderations carry us but a little way. Only a careful study of the in- 
dividual child can tell us what is the best form, that is, the form most 
likely to prove reformatory in any given case. 

With punishments in early government rewards are 
commonly supposed to be correlated. As Locke has 

1 For an account of Bentham's principles, see Proifessor Bain, Edu- 
cation as a Science, p. 106, note. 



566 DELIBEEATE ACTION: MOKAL CHARACTER. 

it: " Remove Hope and Fear, and there is an End of all 
Discipline".^ As punishment acts deterrently on a child's 
dislike of pain, a reward acts stimulatively on his love of 
pleasure. 

A reward may be defined as the giving of some 
pleasure to a child — whether by way of a " present" or 
** gift," of a position of honour, or what not — as a con- 
sequence of some special exhibition of good conduct and 
of what is called merit. It is thus essential to a reward 
that it be given and taken as an emphatic expression of 
commendation. 

Here, again, it is important to distinguish the discipli- 
nary or educative from the merely governmental or order- 
serving function. When, for example, a mother promises 
her rather obstreperous children a special treat if they 
will only keep " good " through the ordeal of a stranger's 
visit to her, she may be helping to avoid disorderli- 
ness, but she is not making use of reward in its higher 
sense. As Locke says : " Rewards should be never offer'd 
or bestow' d on them (children) as the Reward of this or 
that particular Performance ".^ The educative value of 
a reward depends on its being given for a prolonged and 
habitual exertion of will in some good direction, e.g., in- 
dustry in school-work. It depends also on its being 
given as a recognition of a special or exceptional effort 
of will or " virtue," as distinct from a bare compliance 
with the obvious demands of duty. Its good effect 
presupposes further its not having previously been 
counted on and definitely aimed at. The more spon- 
taneous the reward the more emphatically expressive 
will it be of the parent's or teacher's approval and coni- 

1 Thoughts on Education, § 51. ^ q^, cit. , § 63. 



REWAKDS. 567 

raendation, and the greater, consequently, its moral 
eti'eet. 

It is just as easy to over-reward children as to over- 
punish them, and in some respects the effects of the 
former are worse than those of the latter. It fosters the 
idea that a reward is a thing to which the child has a 
right, as also the habit of aiming at it. The keen desire 
for pleasure in the child tends, as Waitz and others have 
shown, to make a too free and injudicious use of re- 
wards specially injurious. 

School-prizes, to which the English school-system 
still appears to be obstinately attached, are to be 
carefully distinguished from rewards proper. As the 
result of competition they are not given necessarily 
for exertion of will at all, but, as boys and girls are quick 
enough to see, often for natural cleverness and early 
advantages. They act by way of the dangerous though 
still much-praised motive of rivalry. As such, however — 
and this may turn out to be one of their redeeming 
features from an ethical point of view — they act only on 
the two or three boys of the form who have a good 
chance of winning the coveted possession. 

Expression of Approval and Disapproval : Praise 
AND Blame. Punishments and Rewards are after all 
morally useful only as an outward and emphatic ex- 
pression of the governor's disapprobation and approba- 
tion. As soon as a child begins to acquire good habits 
under a careful governmental system, and comes under 
the compelling force of the love of approbation, adven- 
titious aids ought to become unnecessary. The word and 
look of rebuke, with some permanent loss of good opinion, 
the word and look of complete satisfaction and approval, 



568 DELIBERATE ACTION: MORAL CHARACTER. 

with some permanent increase of favour, these have a far 
higher educative function than the use of what are com- 
monly called punishments and rewards. 

Such manifestation of approval and disapproval, again^ 
may, if injudiciously resorted to, be mis-educative rather 
than educative. To know when to blame, when to accept 
compliance with rule without sign of favour or disfavour 
as a matter of course, and when to give commendation, 
implies much knowledge of child-nature, both general 
and individual. We may readily depress young effort 
and produce deadness of sensibility by much blaming, 
and on the other hand develop an excessive love of the 
sweets of praise by frequent commendation. 

Praise and blame, like reward and punishment, to 
which they are so closely allied, act educatively on the 
young will by supplying temporary aids to the develop- 
ment of a love of duty and a habitual pursuit of it for its 
own sake. They are both institutions which, like the 
visits of the good doctor, aim at rendering themselves 
unnecessary. The employment of them should be made 
to further the development of the child's feeling of what 
is right, so that he will more and more suffer under dis- 
approval, because he feels it to be just, and on the 
other hand will on receiving commendation experience 
more and more of what Herbart calls the "joy of 
deserved appro^^ation ". 

Educational Development of a Self-Reliant and 
Good Will. If, as is commonly allowed, the aim of moral 
discipline and of moral education as a whole is to help 
to develop a will which aims of itself, and apart from 
external pressures and attractions, at what is good, it 
follows that the system of child-government must little 



EDUCATION OF GOOD WILL. 5G9 

by little relax its hold. In proportion as the youno- sub- 
ject grows in intelligence, he should be led to discern the 
intrinsic reasonableness of the rules of conduct laid 
down, and to choose them as his own principles of 
action. Only in this way can the educator help to de- 
velop those capabilities of moral reflection and wise 
choice on which self-government and a strong self-sup- 
porting character are based. 

The action of education, as ordinarily understood, on 
this development of " moral freedom," is real and im- 
portant, though it is not easy to define its exact range. 
Certain writers appear to have overestimated its influence, 
partly, as in the case of Locke, by not fully recognis- 
ing how much these higher moral attainments are the 
result of the individual's own exertions, and partly, as in 
the case of Herbart, by exaggerating the effect of in- 
tellectual instruction and the connected culture of the 
feelings in exciting and directing the many and various 
lines of exertion implied. One. thing is clear, that since 
the " reactions " to be called forth here are free, self- 
determining actions, the influence of education "inust 
here in a peculiar manner work indirectly rather than 
directly. 

To begin with, then, a valuable preparation for the 
age of freedo'in may be contributed by the early syste7n 
of government itself when this is wise and good, and 
pervaded by the spirit of a worthy personality. This 
applies alike to the government of the home and of the 
school. A school must, in the very process of carrying 
out its work in an orderly way, lead the child in the 
direction of a wise after-choice. The habits of obedience 
formed in a good home or a good school are valuable 



670 DELIBERATE ACTION; MORAL CHARACTER. 

not only as furnishing an element of stability of will 
and subjection to general rule, but as indicating be- 
forehand the directions which the freed and self-reliant 
will is to follow. This applies not only to such small 
matters as those of good decorum, manners and an orderly 
way of treating one's own person and one's belongings 
but to the graver matters of mastering passion, of curbing 
impulse, and of practising the virtues of industry, truth- 
fulness and so forth. 

Nevertheless, this indirect action of early government 
is limited in its scope. The lines of action which we con- 
sider it necessary that a child should carry out in the 
home or the school do not by a long way coincide with 
the wide and varied field of human duty. And, as we 
have seen, habits of obedience, however necessary at a 
certain stage of human development, do not of themselves 
constitute virtuous dispositions : in order that they may 
grow into these, exercises in reflection and choice must 
he added. 

In seeking to develop this moral " self -activity," edu- 
cation has carefully, like the best art, to conceal itself. 
It may act beneficially in many ways, but its action 
when most successful is most disguised and subtle. 
This applies to the whole work of intellectual training 
so far as this tends to develop the ideas which belong to 
an enlightened will as well as the feelings which underlie 
all the worthier desires. It applies, too, to that part of 
instruction which has a distinct and easily recognis- 
able moral aivi. Direct and formal moral teaching is 
apt to exercise but a feeble influence on a boy's conduct : 
but a wisely selected and skilfully presented example of 
virtue or its opposite from the page of history or fiction 



EDUCATIONAL SUGGESTION. 571 

may strike home, and start a long process of self-educa- 
tion. 

The beneficial effect of such instruction on the growing 
will depends largely on the subtle influence of per- 
sonality. The same presentation of a virtuous act drawn 
from history or imaginative literature will have very 
unequal effects according as it is or is not felt to be 
vitalised and warmed by the instructor's own apprecia- 
tive admiration. It is, however, in the more direct forms 
of moral instruction, in which particular lines of virtuous 
conduct are inculcated, that this influence of personality 
is seen most clearly. Here is the opportunity for the 
educator to conceal his art and to rely on the secret 
but powerful influences of personality. The force at 
work is that spoken of above as "suggestion''. Educa- 
tional suggestion resembles that of hypnotism in imply- 
ing a certain rapport between operator and subject, and, 
further, in the fact that the subject is not fully aware of 
the operator's intention. A parent or master who skil- 
fully uses some occasion of exposed defect or fault to 
set up in a boy's mind a fruit-bearing moral idea illus- 
trates this suggestive force of personality. 

The fostering influence of education becomes still more 
indirect when the child is definitely left to exercise his 
own judgment, to act for himself without command or 
suasion, or even bare suggestion, and with nothing to 
guide him but the known character and preferences of 
the educator. Such exercises in free choice are abso- 
lutely essential to the growth of a stable freedom, and 
it is a part of the educator's work to supply them. The 
home, with its larger and freer range of activity, must of 
cjourse offer a wider field than the school here. 



572 DELIBEEATE ACTION: MOEAL CHAEACTEB. 

Scope of Moral Influence in the Home and the School. As im- 
plied in what has been said above, the home and the school have each 
its characteristic function in the development of the child's will and 
the formation of his moral character. The home has special oppor- 
tunities here. For one thing it acts much earlier than Ihe school, at 
the time when " first impressions " are acquired. It is a commonplace 
that the best men who have taken the world into their confidence have 
expressed their indebtedness to the early fostering influence of the 
mother. Again, in the home in the first years the whole of a child's 
life and activity is controlled by the educator. He is watched, con- 
trolled and guided through the whole round of his daily activity, even 
his play being supervised and directly or indirectly determined by 
others. And this wide, all-comprehensive action of the home con- 
tinues, or may continue, long after the child goes to school, and begins 
to form outside attachments. 

With this fact must be taken another, that the family relations, in- 
volving warmer affections and more habitual and intimate intercourse, 
give a peculiar intensity and depth to the moral influence of personality 
in the home. This applies in a special manner to the controlling and 
guiding influence of the mother during the first years. In her directive 
action on the young will we see at their best obedience to authority, 
and the persuasive influence of example and of personal suggestion. 
And this authoritative personal influence of the mother is supported 
more and more and supplemented by that of the father, who when the 
relations are favourable has unique opportunities of strengthening the 
young will by supplying correction which is effective because it emanates 
from a respected and beloved person, and of proffering the counsel 
which is the fruit of experience. 

It seems to follow from all this that the home is fitted to act educa- 
tively on all the main directions of the moral life. Assuming that the 
family life supplies a child with companions sufficiently near himself in 
age, a happy and wisely supervised home should be made to cultivate 
the germs of orderliness, industry, veracity, a sense of justice, together 
with the gentler and finer qualities of individual sympathy, considerate- 
ness for others, and active kindness. 

Contrasted with this the moral education supplied by the school 
looks at first thin and unsubstantial enough. The schoolmaster (in the 
day-school at least) has a definite work to carry out, viz. , teaching, and 
naturally enough his system of government is worked mainly with a 
view to this necessary result. Again, he stands in too remote and 
artificial a relation to his pupils, and has too little to do with that part 



THE HOME AND THE SCHOOL. 573 

of their activity which is of greatest interest to them, to allow of the 
intimate personal sympathy and the penetrating moral influence 
which are possible in the home. It may be added that the school- 
master has not the parent's means of knowing the innermost feelings 
and dispositions of his children, of wisely exercising the young will in 
various directions of moral effort, and of supplying the chastening 
influence of correction and counsel. Whether the boarding-school 
can provide in its extended discipline a substitute for the moral influ- 
ence of the home, is, to say the least, a very disputable proposition. 

At the same time school life, including that freer part of it which is 
passed outside the schoolroom, introduces new and important moral in- 
fluences of its own. Thus the requirement that grows immediately out 
of the institution and government of the school, that each child should 
behave in a definitely prescribed way, remaining quiet, orderly and so 
forth, is a valuable element of moral discipline. It is in the school with 
its larger numbers, in which each finds himself subjected to precisely 
the same rules, that the universality of law is first clearly learned. Still 
more important is the disciplinary action of the schoolmaster in insist- 
ing on honest and methodical work, and thus developing the qualities 
of industry, self-reliance and conscientiousness. To this it may be 
added that the regime of the school, just because of its cold impartiality, 
helps to develop self-reliance, and in close connection with this a con- 
sciousness of one's rights, and a keen sense of justice — more particu- 
larly on the side of equality — in a way in which the government of the 
home, at least in the early years, can hardly do. 

In the freer intercourse with school companions outside the class- 
room a child finds, as we saw above, in a larger community of relatively 
equal wills, just those conditions which help to show the natural 
foundations of morality (see above, p. 504). It is here, when isolated 
from his home and family, a unit in a community, bound together not 
by kinship and a common life, but at most by a circumscribed group of 
interests, when thrown on his own resources, and when having to find 
a modus vivendi with other equally unprotected units, that he first 
comes to a real exercise of his own will. It is here, too, that he first 
makes acquaintance with a corporate feeling and with public opinion on 
a small scale, and so comes under the influence of law detached from a 
•personality ; and though, as we know, this influence may be excessive, 
acting oppressively on "ndividual liberties, and exerting its pressure in 
unworthy directions, it may also when wisely directed become the best 
preparation for a resolute taking up of one's station and one's duty 
in that larger community of strangers which we call the world. 



SUPPLEMENT TO CHAPTER XX. 

(A) DISTINCTNESS AND UNITY OF EDUCATIONAL 
PEOCESSES. 

The line of exposition followed in this work is based on the idea that 
the three aspects of our mental life are in a manner independent, that 
each of them may develop its special tendencies without a corres])(niding 
measure of development of the other aspects. It is this idea which 
scientifically justifies our speaking of distinct processes of education 
corresponding to the ends of an enlightened intelligence, a refined 
feeling for what has real worth, and a firm character (compare above, 
chap. iv.). There is a sense in which the result aimed at in education 
can never be reduced to a unity.^ It will not do to think that by 
training a boy's intelligence we necessarily develop his moral good 
will or even cultivate his taste. The educator who desires to do his 
work completely must ever keep his eye on each of the three great con- 
stituents of human worth. 

While it is important for the educator thus to keep in view the 
different constituents of a fully developed man, and to some extent to 
make the realisation of each a special aim, our study of the processes 
of mental development has made it clear that these different directions 
of educative activity are closely interconnected. Thus we have seen 
that the connections between the intellectual processes and certain 
groups of feelings are vital, and are implied in speaking about interests. 

^ The tendency to over-unify the educational processes is seen, I 
think, in Herbart's treatment of the education of the intellect and feel- 
ings as subordinate to that of will and character; and again, in his 
tendency to identify the perception of moral relations with aesthetic 
perception (see especially his work, The Science of Education, Felkin's 
translation, pp. 78 ff., and 106 ff. ; also p. 66 f.). Mrs. Bryant shows a 
similar tendency to identify logical and moral education {Educational 
Ends, " Conclusion "). It is instructive to note that she makes no 
reference to aesthetic culture. 



MANY-SIDEDNESS AND UNITY OF EDUCATION. 575 

These interests involve a reciprocal action of the closest possible kind 
between intellectual and affective elements. 

The same close connection, and the same reciprocal action, show 
themselves when we consider intellection and feeling in their relation 
to conation. That thought and feeling contribute each its vital element 
to the developed processes of volition has been insisted upon in this 
work. While we remember — as against Herbart's attempt to view 
volition as a mere product of presentations and the feelings which 
grow out of their interaction — that it has its independent origin in cer- 
tain congenital impulses, we may cordially accept from him much that 
he says about the need of forming the " good will " through processes 
of intellectual instruction and the culture of the feelings. 

Even here, however, we must remember, as against the one-sided- 
ness of the Herbartian, that the relation is one of reciprocal aid and 
furtherance. Not only does the intelligent and efficient educator act 
indirectly upon the will and character by presenting new intellectual 
material for assimilation, and, as a result of this, introducing new move- 
ment into the life of feeling, he aims at realising the highest development 
of thought and feeling alike by training arid forming the will. As we have 
seen, all the finest products of intellect and feeling come to us by way 
not of direct instruction, but of our own individual efforts. There is no 
thinking, in the full sense of- this word, which is not the outcome of a 
volitional process. Probably the greatest service which the school 
renders to the young will is that it exercises it constantly and naethodi- 
cally in the vigorous and steady industries of thought. The same 
remark applies to the finer developments of the emotional life. The 
discerning love of virtue, as we see it in the best of men, the pure de- 
votion to truth, as we see it in the scholar and man of science, and the 
refined enthusiasm for the beauty of things, as we see it in the artist, 
never came to their possessor by nature, or, indeed, by gift of the 
schoolmaster. They have been sought for and diligently cultivated by 
the active volitional processes of self-education, and we most effectually 
further the growth of these higher feelings by stimulating the young 
will to set out on this path of self-education. 

(B) TYPICAL DEVELOPMENT AND ITS VARIETIES : 
INDIVIDUALITY. 

In tracing out the typical form ©f the mental life we have indicated 
here and there how it gets differentiated into this and that variety. 
These variations of mind and character are, it must be evident, of the 
greatest consequence to the educator. 



576 SUPPLEMENT TO CHAPTER XX. 

A proper understanding of the differences of mental characteristics 
observable among individuals would have- to set out with a considera- 
tion of certain broad diversities, viz., those of race, and that of the 
sexes. Although a beginning has been made in elucidating the dis- 
tinguishing characters of boys and of girls, and of children of different 
races, our knowledge of both is still very imperfect. One of the most 
definite results yet reached here is the difference in general between 
the course of intellectual development of a boy and a girl. A compara- 
tive stud}^ of the feelings and interests of the sexes — so far as these can 
be said to develop spontaneously — would be deeply interesting and of the 
highest importance. 

Leaving the deep-reaching organic causes of differences, we have 
the varieties of mind and character as they appear among individuals 
of the same sex and race. These differences have been studied in 
ancient and in modern times. Earlier speculation uried to classify 
them, referring them to a physiological base, under the celebrated 
doctrine of " temperaments ". That organic differences underlie and 
determine such typical differences is certain ; yet the old attempts of 
the doctrine of temperaments and of the later doctrine of phrenology 
are now discarded by science ; and she seems still chary of offering 
us a new and better theory. 

From a psychological point of view we may to some extent classify 
minds according to the relative preponderance of intellect, of feeling, 
or of will ; and, again, according to the special modifications of each, 
such as the excitable and calm types of emotional character, the quick 
and intuitive, and slow and discursive types of intelligence. Further, 
we can already begin to descry certain connections or " correlations " 
between these differences. Thus there is little doubt that a certain 
kind of emotional vivacity helps to determine the characteristic play of 
imagination and of intellection generally. It must be confessed, how- 
ever, that in spite of a good deal of recent and valuable work in this 
field science has not yet supplied us with a satisfactory classification 
of types of character. 

We may now pass to more complex and concrete differences among 
minds, viz., to those which underlie what we call Individuality. 

Nature op Individuality. By individuality is meant the par- 
ticular aggregate of mental characteristics which gives to a person his 
distinctive stamp, and makes him a diffe7-ent being from others, and not 
merely another being. Any feature, intellectual or other, which helps 
to render the individual thus distinct may be called individualising. 
Individuality may be regarded as divergence from a common or 



r 



DIVEESITIES AMONG MINDS. 577 

" average " type of mind. Such divergence may arise in one of two 
ways : (1) A child or an adult may be considerably above the common 
level of his age, and known as gifted ; or, on the other hand, may fall 
considerably below this level, and be backward and dull. 

(2) Individuality, as commonly understood, implies a reference to the 
viocle of arrangement of the several constituents of a human mind. A 
child has individuality when certain characters or groups of charac- 
ters show themselves in more than ordinary intensity, so as to give a 
dominant colour to the mind, and when these dominant characters 
take on peculiar modifications and modes of expression. Thus a 
child's mind becomes individualised by the appearance of an excep- 
tionally strong bent to inquiry about things, and to certain directions 
of inquiry, and also to a peculiar manner of inquiring. 

It follows from this definition that individuality is a thing of degrees. 
Some children have much more individuality than others, as seen in 
their modes of observing, thinking, giving practical effect to their feel- 
ings, etc. The degree of individuality in any case is determined by the 
amount of divergence of the characters from the common standard, and 
by the number of such divergences} 

Individuality as a quality of normal persons must be carefully dis- 
tinguished from eccentricity, that is, any deviation from the normal 
type which approaches to mental aberration. What may be the exact 
limits of a perfectly sane variation of mental characteristics we need 
not here seek to determine. Suffice it to say that all healthy indi- 
viduality is variation confined within the limits of normal development. 

As we have seen, a certain amount of individuality discloses itself in 
the early years of life (compare above, p. 86 ff.)- Two infants will 
look at you, will use their hands, will cry and so forth, in slightly 
different ways, and these divergences become much more plainly 
marked in the second and third years. Yet although a child has the 
natural basis and the germ of individuality, he does not exhibit 
it in its higher human degrees. It seems to be a biological prin- 
ciple that the higher an organism in the scale of life, the wider the 
range of individual differentiation ; and the same law holds of the 
successive stages of development of the individual. Just as himian 
faces get more and more unlike with the progress of the years, so do 
their minds. Hence individuality in its fullest sense is a product of 
development. It may be added that it is only this matured indi- 

1 Provided, of course, that the divergences are not general, and so 
equivalent to a rise (or fnll) in the scale of mental development. 
38 



578 SUPPLEMENT TO CHAPTER XX. 

viduality which is fully realised by its subject, viz., in the coii^ciouS' 
ness of personality. 

Value of Individuality. This is not the place to discuss the worth 
of individuality (within normal limits). It is for ethics to determine 
this point. It may be enough to say that its value is still greatly under- 
rated, whether we consider it in relation to its conscious possessor, 
or in relation to the community of which its possessor is a mem- 
ber. That an abiding consciousness of personal distinction, of having 
thoughts, aims, different from those of others, of living out a life which 
has never been lived out before, is one of the great constituents in the 
higher kind of human happiness, is a truth which, in spite of the 
writings of J. S. Mill and others, has yet to be learned by many.^ It is 
still more certain that even the most civilised communities— as repre- 
sented by their governments at least — have no adequate appreciation of 
the importance, for a nation's well-being and prospect of advance, of 
encouraging in every possible way among its citizens individual variety 
of mind and character. 

Education and Individuality. The educator has to reckon with 
the fact of individual variation, and to determine beforehand what place 
he shall give it in his plan of mental development. 

To begin with, whatever may be his indifference to the value of in- 
dividuality he is at the outset confronted with the germs of it, some- 
times with a very lively and vigorous germ. If he essays to teach all 
his pupils as if they perceived things and thought about things in 
exactly the same fashion, he will soon find his way to genuine instruc- 
tion effectually blocked. As we have seen, the environment only 
becomes the environment by entering into vital relations with a child's 
natural tendencies ; consequently the teacher only accomplishes his full 
purpose of instructing a child's mind by adapting his mode of pre- 
sentation to that child's pre-existing stock of ideas and special in- 
tellectual and other tendencies. The best, that is, the most effective, 
education is thus necessarily recognisant of individuality. 

It must, however, be conceded that where individuality is dis- 
couraged or resolutely ignored, something may be done towards 
diminishing and even killing it. The levelling mode of teaching, 
which insists on all children learning the same things in the same 
order and according to precisely the same methods of stating, illustrat- 
ing and explaining, will undoubtedly tend to plane down young minds 

^ See especially Mill's chapter, " Individuality as One of the Elements 
of Well-being," in his essay On Liberty. 



KESPECT FOK INDIVIDUALITY. 579 

to one pattern, and so the question becomes, How ought a teacher to 
comport himself in relation to a child's individual impulses, tastes and 
capabilities ? In spite of the neglect of individuality in schools — more 
especially in elementary schools v/ith their big classes — we may hope 
that teachers are beginning to discern the value not only of preserving 
but of fostering and developing all that is healthy and good in a child's 
mental peculiarities. 

This fostering of individuality must set out with a ^painstaking in- 
vestigation of the individual child's existing capabilities, tastes and 
impulses. The recent development of experimental tests referred to 
above has made such methodical inspection possible. These investiga- 
tions should be renewed from time to time in order to see how the range 
of individualising character varies under the process of educational 
development. 

When the teacher has thus made clear to himself what sort of 
minds he has to act upon he will proceed to modify his typical plan of 
culture. Even at the beginning, in the home or the kindergarten, a 
teacher who knows her pupils will show her respect for individuality 
by giving this bit of work to one child, putting this particular question 
to that child, and so forth. Later on, when the preponderant lines of 
capability and interest get more clearly marked, specialisation of lines 
of work will be gradually introduced. Outside this more direct action 
upon individuality of the course and manner of instruction there may 
be a less direct fostering of it by handing over now and again a half- 
hour to a self-chosen occupation, and by encouraging a child to develop 
his own special aptitudes in the freer hours spent at home. How far the 
general plan of intellectual culture should go in the direction of self- 
adjustment to individual tastes and capabilities is still a moot point. 
A certain range of studies and interests is no doubt desirable for every 
normally endowed child who is to participate in the great legacy of 
human culture. Not only so, as Herbart has well shown, a certain 
area of intellectual instruction is needed in order to the develop- 
ment of individuality itself ; for the study of a new subject may be 
the means of bringing to light an undiscovered special aptitude. It 
may be pointed out, however, that the awakening of an intelligent in- 
terest in all the great directions of human thought and activity, such 
as science and literature, does not necessarily mean that we should 
teach the same particular group of subjects to all children. And in 
any case we should be careful, just so far as this need of a uniform 
course of study is necessary, to bring each part of it into vital relation 
with the individual's special capabilities and feelings. For the rest the 



580 SUPPLEMENT TO CHAPTER XX. 

teacher will do well to get rid as soon as possible of the false and bane- 
ful idea that the appearance of special strength of intelligence in a 
particular direction should be left to take care of itself, and that his 
business is to level up the whole mind by working away on what is 
naturally defective. 

With respect to the culture of the feelings supplied by literature 
and art, nothnig need be added to what has been said above. In this 
department, as we have seen, any intelligent plan of education must 
not only allow for diversity of taste but directly encourage it — always 
within due limits. 

It is in the formation of the good will or the moral character that 
the problem of finding room for individuality within the typical plan of 
development becomes most diffiicult. 

A little thought will, however, show that there is no insuperable 
difficulty here. While the ethical end insists upon a certain con- 
formity in human action it does not insist upon nnifortnity. Not to 
speak of that region of " free " action, where a person is allowed to act 
as an individual, as, for example, in choosing his books, his friends, and 
his future career, moral action itself in the narrower sense of the term 
gives a certain play to individual preferences. As has been suggested 
above, diversity of stations and needs imposes a certain diversity of 
conduct. Thus some persons, owing to the possession of a weak 
organ, have to exercise more of the virtue of temperance than others, 
some who are exceptionally sensitive to pain to exercise more en- 
durance than others, and so forth. Not only so, the possession of a 
particular moral disposition in a preternatural degree of strength im- 
poses a kind of special duty on its subject. A person who has quick 
sympathies, and a happy way of expressing them, is specially called upon 
to show sympathy. Thus the moral character itself is not a thing of one 
set shape, but being a living process within an individual necessarily 
takes up into itself something of that individual's distinctive attributes. 
Here then, too, the educator has to discover and encourage in- 
dividuality. Moral discipline is no doubt concerned primarily with 
the production of a common respect for well-defined rules. Yet the 
intelligent educator will never think of this as the whole of his work ; 
but, taking pains to find out in the case of each child where in the 
circumstances of the child's life special openings for virtuous effort, 
and where in the child's individual nature the best germs of moral dis- 
position, lie, will aim especially at fostering these, and so contributing 
as far as may be to the development of a moral character which is at 
once typically good and individually fresh and strong. 



INDIVIDUALITY AND MOEAL CHARACTER. 581 

In less direct ways still— though by no means unimportant ones^ 
the wise educator will seek to promote individuality. The salutary 
action of a good headmaster on the " tone " of his school should show 
itself in nothing more clearly than in the restraining of those tendencies 
to intolerance and persecution of individual dissent from the majority 
which seem to be inseparable from communities, old and young alike. 
It is to be hoped that a time may come when the Heads of our Public 
Schools will think it as much their duty to protect a boy's legitimate 
liberty of thought and sentiment against the crude and quite conven- 
tional " public opinion " of a playground as to insist on his conformity 
to what has the full claim of an authoritative rule. 

REFERENCES FOR READING. 

A fuller psychological account of the higher volitional processes may 
be found in the following : Sully, The Human Mind, vol. ii. , chap, 
xviii. ; H. Hoffding, Outlines of Psychology, vii., D ; W. James, Psy- 
chology, chap. xxvi. 

The classification of types of character is discussed by B. Perez, 
Le caractere de V enfant it Vhomme ; A. Fouillee, Temperament et Carac- 
tere ; F. Paulhan, Les Caracteres, and Th. Ribot, La Psychologie des 
Sentiments, part ii., chap. xii. ff. 

On the ethical principles of character and their application to educa- 
tion, the student may consult the following : J. S. Mackenzie, Manual 
of Ethics, chap. xii. ; Mrs. Bryant, Educational Ends, part i. ; S. S. 
Laurie, Institutes of Education, part v. ; and Lloyd Morgan, Psycho- 
logy for Teachers, chap. x. 

On the action of moral discipline on early character the following 
may be consulted : J. Locke, On Education, especially §§ 32-117 ; Miss 
Edgeworth, Practical Education, chaps, vii. and ix. ; H. Spencer, Educa- 
tion, chap. iii. ; A. Bain, Education as a Science, pp. 100-119 ; Felkin's 
Introduction to Herbart's Science and Practice of Education, chap, 
iv., or the larger work, Science of Education, by J. F. Herbart 
(Felkin's translation), bk. iii. Among foreign works the fol- 
lowing may be mentioned : Madame Necker, L'Eclucation Progressive, 
i., chaps, iv. and vi. ; iii., chap. ii. ; and vi., chap. iv. ; A. E. Martin, 
L' Education du caractere ; H. Marion, Le(;.ons de Psychologie, lemons v., 
ix. and xiv., also his volume, Lec^ons de Morale ; E. Rayot, Le(^ons de 
Psyclwlogie, le(?on xix. ; Th. Waitz, Allgem. Pddagogik, §§ 11-15; F. 
Dittes, Grundriss, 5^' Abschnitt ; T. Ziller, Allgem. Pddagogik, §§ 28, 29 ; 
Rnd the article " Charakterbildung " in Rein's Encyclop. Handhuch 
der Pddagogik. 



582 SUPPLEMENT TO CHAPTER XX. 

On the relation of education to individuality the student may refer 
to J. P. Richter, Levana (translated by S. Wood), fragment ii. ; J. F. 
Herhart, The Science of Education (Felkin's translation), book i., chap, 
ii. ; F. Queyrat, L&s caracteres et Veducation onorale ; and the article 
" Individualitat " in Rein's Encyclop. Handhiich der Pddagogik. 

In connection with the bearing of individuality on education the 
student would do well to consult some work on the observation and 
classification of children's defects, such as the following : Dr. F. 
Warner, The Children, How to Study Them, and Lectures on the Growth 
and Mea?is of Training the Mental Faculty ; three articles on "Mental 
Defect and Disorder from the Teacher's Point of View," by Professor 
J. Royce, American Educational Review, 1893 ; Emminghaus, Die psy- 
chische Storungenini Kindesalter ; and the article " Kinderfehler " in 
P.ein's Encyclop. Handbuch der Pddagogik. 



INDEX. 



INDEX. 



A B3TRACTI0N, involved in thought, 306. 

Accommodation — adjustment, optical, 125 ; to surroundings, 66, 413, 528. 

Activity — power, emotion of, 450. 

^■Esthetic imagination, 279. 

.Esthetic sentiment, aesthetic faculty, genei'al account of, 477 ; standard of 

481 ; growth of, 482 ; education of, 485. 
Esthetics, bearing of, on education, 8. 
Affectation, of feeling, 438 ; of taste, 488 {see Feeling). 
Affective function of mind, 46 ; elements, 126. 
Analysis and synthesis, as mode of studying mind, 44 ; as element in observation, 

197 ; in thought, 306, 320, 348, 364, 375. 
Anger, emotion of, 444 ; educational control of, 448. 
Apperception, 48, 274, 394. 
Appetite, 512. 

Apprehension and comprehension, 305. 
Approbation, love of, 457 ; educational control of, 459. 
Art, relation of, science to, 1 ; as instrument of culture, 487. 
Assimilation, one of primary intellectual functions, 47, 172; part played by, in 

intellectual processes, 256, 273, 296, 313, 375. 
Association— Integrative connection, 48, 74 ; general account of, 218 ; use of, in 

education, 255 ; as means of developing feeling, 420 ; element in voluntary 

movement, 513. 
Attention, general account of, 135 ; non-voluntary and voluntary, 145 ; early 

development of, 154; variations in power of, 160; measurement of, 161; 

training of, 161 ; involved in reproduction, 212, 236 ; in thought, 306 ; con- 
trol of, by will, 548, 550. 
Authority, educational influence of, 396, 501. 

Bain, Dr. A., 252 note, 273, 354, 447 note. 

Baldwin, Mark, 461, 561. 

Beneke, Dr. F. E., 102. 

Body, connection of mind with, 16, 27 ; how known, 184 ; training of, 530. 

Brain {see Nervous sy.stem). 

Bridgman, Laura, 189. 

Browne, Sir J. Crichton, 104. 

Browning, Robert, 487. 

Bryant, Sophie, 555, 574 note. 

Causation— cause, relation of induction to, 380, 385, 400. 
Character, meanings of, 552 ; moral or virtuous, 554 ; classification of types of 
576 ; relation^of moral, to individuality, 580. 



586 INDEX. 

Child— children, observation of mind of, 20; physical characteristics of, 38: 
mental characteristics of, 79, 86, 102, 130, 145, l&O, 154, 187, 241, 283, 830, 
36S, 384, 425, 442, 445^ 452, 454, 458, 461, 464, 474, 482, 495, 509, 520, 565, 

Choice, an element in volition, 541. 

Class of things— classitication, beginnings of, 195, 312 ; logical process of, 346 ; 
exercises in, 352. 

Colour-sense, 188, 194. 

Commands and prohibitions, 559. 

Companions, influence of, 497, 504, 519, 573. 

Comparison, as element of thought, 308. 

Conative function, 46, 508 ; elements, 126 {see Willing). 

Concentration, mental, 157. 

Concept or general idea, account of, 311 ; variety of, 319 ; logical control of, 338. 

Conception, a stage of thinking, 310, 314 ; relation of, to imagination, 328 ; 
early development of, 330 ; varieties of, 336 ; measurement of, 337 5 
educational control of, 350 ; relation of, to judgment, 366. 

Connotation and denotation of names, 339. 

Conscious, the, and the sub-conscious, 136. 

Construction — Constructive imagination, 267 {see Imagination). 

Contiguity, as basis of association, 218. 

Contrast, as law of attention, 146 ; Juxtaposition of, 193 ; as means of sugges- 
tion, 228 ; as condition of feeling, 412. 

Contrivance, practical, 277. 

Creation, creative imagination, 269. 

Curiosity, nature of children's, 398, 474. 

Custom, efl'ect of, on moral development, 497 {see Habit). 

Darwin, Ch., 332, 

Deduction, a form of reasoning, 380, 388, 391. 

Dehuition, logical process of, 348 ; use of, by teacher, 355. 

Deliberation, nature of, 543. 

Description, realisation of, 272 ; art of, 297. 

Desire, account of, 511. 

Development, of brain, 34 ; of mind, 59 ; varieties of, 85 ; and education, 94 ; 

periods of, 102 (Early, of Attention, Sense-perception, etc., see under these 

heads). 
Differentiation, biological, 35 ; psychological, 47 {see Discrimination). 
Discipline, moral, 502, 558. 
Discovery of knowledge, 265, 300, 403. 
Discrimination, as primary intellectual function, 47 ; measurement of, 94, 191 ;• 

part played by, in intellectual processes, 169, 193, 274, 334, 345, 349, 381. 
Disposition, psycho-physical, 72, 207. 
Distance, perception of, 180. 
Drawing, as means of cultivating observation of form, 200. 

Ebbinghaus, H., 250, 290. 

Edgeworth, Maria, 150, 443, 448, 466, 560. 

Education, art and science of, 5 ; divisions of, 7 ; end and processes of, 8, 574 ; 
bearings of physiology of brain on, 38 ; and individuality, 578 (Training in 
Attention, Sense-observation, etc., see under these heads). 

Educator, uses of psychology to, 9 ; as element of social environment, 82 ; in- 
fluence of personality of, 502, 571. 

Egoistic and social feelings, 440. 

Eliot, George, 399, 427. 

Emotion, general account of, 416 ; action of education on, 433 {see Feeling). 

Emulation {see Rivalry). 



INDEX. 687 

Environment and organism, 65 ; natural, 79 ; social, 80 ; diversities of, 89. 

Ethics, bearing of, on education, 8, 554. 

Experiments in psychology, 23, 93, 161, 191, 249, 290, S90, 529 ; as means of 

gaining knowledge, 279. 
Expectant attention, 151. 
Explanation, nature of, 382, 399. 
Estensity of sensation, 114. 

Faculty, mental, 46 ; order of development of, 67 ; training of, 97. 

Familiarity, relation of, to interest, 149. 

Fancy, children's, 284, 291. 

Faraday, Prof. M., 396. 

Fatigue, mental, 39, 43. 

Fear, account of, 440 ; educational control of, 442. 

Feeling, as distinct aspect of mind, 46 ; effect of, on imagination, 279, 281 ; 
on judgment, 372 ; general account of, 407 ; early developments of, 425 ;. 
educational control of, 429 ; influence of, on growth of volition, 537 ; con- 
trol of, by will, 546, 549. 

Fiction, use and abuse of, 292 {see Literature). 

Fitch, Sir J. G., 229. 

Form, tactile perception of, 176 ; visual perception of, 179 ; training in ob- 
servation of, 197, 353. 

Function of mind, 44 ; intellectual, 47. 

Galton, Francis, 91, 209, 261, 328 note. 

General idea {see Concept). 

Generalisation as process of thought, 314 {see Classification). 

Generic inia.ge. 312. 

Genius, relation of, to surroundings, 92 ; relation of power of ooncentration to, 

159. 
Geography, educational uses of, 255, 297. 
Government, early, 557. 

Habit, relation of, to development, 72, 528 ; as factor in intellectual processes, 
159, 204, 399 ; as influencing feeling, 414, 422 ; operation of, in nioral 
action, 467 ; as factor in voluntary movement, 524 ; in higher volitional 
processes, 551 ; in moral character, 554. 

Hauser, Kaspar, 80, . 

Hearing, sense of, 120. 

Heart, learning by, 257. 

Herbart, J. F., 9, 12, 95, 539 note, 545, 551 note, 574 note, 575. 

Heredity, racial, 63, 78, 385 ; and individuality, 87. 

History, educational uses of, 256, 296, 302. 

Home, influence of, compared with that of school, 504, 572. 

Image— images, 74, 209; trains of, 223; generic, 312. 

Imagination, productive imagination, a stage of development, 68 ; reproductive 
and productive, 266 ; general account of, 267 ; diflerent directions of, 269 ; 
early developments of, 283 ; varieties of, 288 ; measurement of, 289 ; edu- 
cational control of, 290 ; relation of, to thought, 328. 

Imitation, relation of sympathy to, 464, 519 ; general account of, 517. 

Individual difterences— individuality, 87, 130, 160, 188, 246, 288, 336, 370, 389, 
428, 493, 520 ; fuller account of, 576. 

Induction, in psychology, 24 ; as form of reasoning, 378, 385, 391. 

Infancy, meaning of, 65. 

Inhibition of movement, 542. 



588 INDEX. 

Instinct, instinctive, 64, 128. 

Integration, psychological, 48. 

Intellectual processes (see Knowing). 

Intellectual sentiment, general account of, 470 ; cultivation of, 476. 

Interest, nature of, 147, 475 ; effect of, on intellectual processes, 165, 205, 222, 

253, 294, 333, 351. 
Intensity of sensations. 111. 
Intuitive and symbolic knowledge, 323. 

James, W., 325. 

Judging— Judgment, as process of thought, 311, 363; relation of, to conception, 
366 ; early development of, 368 ; logical regulation of, 371 ; relation of, to 
reasoning, 377 ; exercises in, 395 ; aesthetic, 480 ; moral, 494. 

Kant, I., 82, 91, 264. 

Kindergarten, exercises of, 200, 303, 452, 531. 

Knowing — Intellectual processes, as distinct phase of mind, 45 ; elementary 

functions of, 46 ; relation of, to feeling, 49 ; and to conation, 49, 538, 548 ; 

stages of development of, 67 ; relation of senses to, 107. 
Knowledge, empirical and scientific, 2_; abstract and concrete, 305 ; intuitive 

and symbolic, 323 ; pleasures of, 472. 

Lange, K., 274, 358. 

Language, use of names, etc., function of, in memory, 220, 225, 257 ; in 

thought, 312, 315 ; early progress in, 332 ; differentiation of forms of, 

334 ; definition of, 355 ; explanation of, 358. 
Law, definition of, 4 ; of mind, 24, 52. 
Leibnitz, G. W., 340 note. 

Literature, educational uses of, 258, 280, 286, 294, 489. 
Local discrimination — Localisation of sensations, 115, 124, 174, 184.- 
Locke, John, 16, 248, 251, 433, 447 note, 566. 
Logic, regulation of thought by, 8, 338, 371, 390, 404, 438. 
Love, a social feeling, 461. 

Manual construction, 303. 

Martineau, Harriet, 426. 

Mathematics, ideas of, 200, 320, 353 ; as means of training, 401. 

Measurement, of mental capacity, 93 (of Attention, Perception, etc., see under 
these heads). 

Memory and reproduction, 210, 239 ; early developments of, 241 ; vai-ieties of, 
246 ; educational development of, 250 ; place of, in intellectual training, 263. 

Method, of psychology, 17 ; in teaching, 402. 

Mind, mental phenomena, scientific conception of, 15 ; and body, 16, 27 ; obser- 
vation of, 17 ; triple function of, 44 ; unity of, 50 ; development of, 59. 

Mnemonics, art of, 259. 

Monotony and change, 146, 412, 432. 

Moral sentiment— Conscience, general account of, 490 ; standard of, 495 ; 
growth of, 495 ; cultivation of, 501. 

Motive, an element of volition, 514, 540. 

Motor, sensations, 118 ; construction, 278, 516 ; representations, 513, 522. 

Movement, reflex, 127 ; instinctive, 128, 509 ; spontaneous, 129 [see Voluntary 
movement). 

Muscular sense, 117. 

Music, sensations of, 121. 

Names {see Language). 
Nature, as guide to teacher, 95. 



INDEX. 589 

Necker de Saussure, Madame, 293, 359 note, 398. 

N egation, early forms of, 369. 

Ntrvous system, account of, 27 ; higher centres of, as organs of mmd, 31 ; 

concern of education with, 38. 
Novelty, effect of, on attention, 146, 163. 
Number, ideas of, 321, 335, 354. 

Object, perception of, 177, 183. 
Object-lesson, principles of, 202. 
Observation of objects, process of, 197. 
Obstinacy, of belief, 374 ; of will, 545. 
Order of instruction, 98, 360, 402. 
Organic sense, 110 ; feelings of, 415. 

Parent, as part of social environment, 80 ; function of, in education, 572. 

Percept, nature of, 169. 

Perception, through the senses — Sense-observation, asa stageof development,68 r 

general account of, 168 ; early forms of, 187 ; training of senses and 

observing powers, 192. 
Perez, B., 242, 335. 

Personality, idea of, 326 ; moral influence of, 502, 571. 
Ptisterer, G. F., 102. 

Physical education, 530. ' ' 

Physiology, bearing of, on education, 7. 
Pictures, educational use of, 299. 
Play, educational aspects of, 285, 303. 

Pleasure and pain as fundamental distinction of feeling, 410. 
Praise and blame, 567. 
Presentation, 47. 

Preyer, W., 189, 244, 335, 474, 482, 515. 
Pride, distinguished from vanity, 460. 
Proposition, logical, 364. 

Psychology, bearing of, on education, 8 ; scope of, 15. 
Public opinion, influence of, 505, 573, 581. 
Punishment and reward, moral function of, 562. 

Quality, a distinction of sensation, 111. 

Questions, educational use of, 262, 301, 369, 399 ; of children, 398. 

Quintilian, 251, 253. 

Reasoning, nature of, 375 ; inductive and deductive, 378 ; early developments 

of, 384 ; logical regulation of, 390 ; training in, 398. 
Recognition of objects, 186. 
Recollection, as active reproduction, 236. 
Reflex movement, 30, 127. 
Repetition, a condition of retention, 214, 254. 
Representation, representative images, as stage of development, 68 ; account of, 

208. 
Reproduction or reproductive imagination, relation of, to retention, 74 ; general 

account of, 207 (see Memory). 
Resistance, sensations of, 118. 
Resolution, process of, 544, 

Retentiveness, 72, 207 {see Reproduction and Memory). 
Richter, .Jean Paul, 259 note, 303, 463, 488. 
Rivalry, emotion of, 453 ; educational control of. 155. 
Rousseau, J. J., 81, 196, 498. 



590 INDEX. 

Sand, George, 486. 

School, function of, in education, 468 (see Home). 

Science, relation of, to art, 1 ; educational function of, 203, 275, 347, 392, 400. 

Self, idea of, 185, 323. 

Self-control, general account of, 545 ; as element of moral character, 554. 

Seneca, 255 note. 

Senses, the, sensation, first stage of development. 68 ; account of, 106 ; develop- 
ment of, 129 ; differences in capacity of, 130 ; care of, 132 ; elaboration of 
material of, 168 {see Perception). 

Sense-feelings, 415. 

Sensibility, absolute and discriminative, 131. 

Sentiments, abstract, 424, 470. 

Sex, influence of, in education, 576. 

Sight, sense of, 122 ; perceptions of, 178. 

Similarity, as law of suggestion, 226 {see Assimilation). 

Smell, sense of, 112. 

Social emotions, 461 {see Sympathy). 

Solidity of form, how known, 182. 

Spencer, H., 79, 463. 

Standard, aesthetic, 481 ; ethical, 495. 

Stewart, D., 264. 

Stimulus, definition of, 10. 

Stout, G. F., 320 note. 

Suggestion, of images, 217 ; simple and complex, 230 ; divergent, 230 ; con- 
vergent, 231. 

Suggestion, hypnotic, use of, in moral education, 560, 571. 

Syllogism, form of deductive argument, 381. 

Sympathy, general account of, 462 ; uses of, in education, 465 ; connection of, 
with moral sentiment, 492 ; relation of, to imitation, 519. 

Taste, sesthetic, faculty of, 480 {see iEsthetic sentiment). 

Taste, sense of, 112. 

Taylor, Isaac, 196, 352 note. 

Thermal sense, 116. 

Thinking— Thought, stage of development, 69 ; nature of, 305 ; stages of, 310. 

Touch, sense of, 113 ; active side of, 116 ; perceptions of, 175. 

VoLKMANN, "W., on exciting interest, 165. ^ 

Voluntary movement, general account of, 509 ; educational control of. 529. 

WAiTZ,Th., 344 note, 436. 

Weight, sense of, 114, 118. 

Weismann, A., 79. 

Will, willing, as aspect of mind, 46 ; development of, 75 ; co-operation of, in 
intellectual processes, 152, 236, 268, 306 ; general account of, 508 ; early 
training of, 529 ; higher processes of, 537 ; higher education of, 556. 

Wonder, emotiou of, 471. 



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IV: 



OMAN'S SHARE IN PRIMITIVE CUL- 
TURE. By Otis Tufton Mason, A. M., Curator of the 
Department of Ethnology in the United States National Mu- 
seum. With numerous Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, $1.75. 
" A most interesting rhumd of the revelations which science has made concerning 

the habits of human beings in primitive times, and especially as to the place, the duties, 

and the customs of women." — Philadelphia hiquirer. 

"J^HE PYGMIES. By A. de Quatrefages, late 
-^ Professor of Anthropology at the Museum of Natural History, 
Paris. With numerous Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, $1.75. 
" Probably no one was better equipped t > illustrate the general subject than Quatre- 
fages. While constantly occupied upon the anatomical and osseous phases of his sub- 
ject, he was none the less well acquainted with what literature and history had to say 
concerning the pygmies. . . . This book ought to be in every divinity school in which 
man as well as God is studied, and from which missionaries go out to convert the human 
being of reality and not the man of rhetoric and text-books." — Boston Literary World. 

^HE BEGINNINGS OF WRITING. By W. J. 
■*- Hoffman, M. D. With numerous Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, 

$1.75. 
This interesting book gives a mDst attractive account of the rude methods employed 
by primitive man for recording his deeds. The earliest writing consists of pictographs 
which were traced on stone, wood, bone, skins, and various paperlike substances. J)r. 
Hoffman shows how the several classes of symbols used in these records are to be in< 
terpreted, and traces the growth of conventional signs up to syllabaries and alphabets— 
the two classes of signs employed by modern peoples. 

IN preparation. 

THE SOUTH SEA ISLANDERS. By Dr. Schmeltz. 
THE ZUNI. By Frank Hamilton Gushing. 
THE AZTECS. By Mrs. Zelia Nuttall. 



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